Psyche
by Pearl-Posts
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive is obsessed with revenge. Acacia and Casimir Belynneda are obsessed with murder. When a hit list has cast five unrelated nobles into panic, Ciel, now alongside madhouse inmates Acacia and Casimir, must work together to solve it, with more lives on the line than ever. "We've gone insane; isn't it so wonderful?"
1. Relativity

**This is a rewrite of a rather stupid fanfiction I did called** _ **Dancing With Death.**_ **Nothing is the same except the characters' names.**

 **So, remember, if you want, I give!**

" _Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage."_

 _-Ray Bradbury_

 **_-X*X-_**

They come for the insane eventually, whether you're a king or a peasant. No matter what, they come, and they hurt. I'd know. They came for us when we were ten.

I can remember the inconsequential things, like what we had for breakfast that morning and that London was finally cooling down for Autumn. Father woke me and my brother just like any other day, and took us down to downtown London.

But it was different. When we got back, he was waiting. He was waiting in the charred remains of our manor, all splattered in blood and black ash. I remember those colors clearly because they stood out against the white of his suit.

My father pushed us behind him, and he shouted, he told them he was calling the Yard and to leave. But my brother and I watched as the man in white said nothing, instead drove a thin bladed sword through his heart.

Not an hour later, the Yard came and locked us up in the madhouse.

A year later, we were released, and the madhouse burned down. My brother and I were the only survivors.

A year after that, we're twelve, living in the Belynneda manor with our little sister Rosanne, a housemaid with no sense of smell, a precocious cook, a mute gardener, and a beautiful handmaid from Italy.

We still have our scars. Burns from the electroshock and chafes red on our wrists. Unlike some, we wear ours proudly. When we have guests or meetings, there is almost always an off-handed remark about our time in the madhouse or our family's deaths or our scars. Lau of the Shenghai Trading Company is no exception.

"Excuse my prying, Lord Belynneda, but I heard rumors that you were locked in the madhouse."

"We were," Casimir challenges with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk. "At ten, falsely accused for our parents' murder."

"You poor children," the merchant purrs, his mouth set in a grim line. Next to him, his escort looks on silent and stony faced.

"I'd like to think we're actually in a rare possession of luck, Lau," I say quietly over my teacup, swirling the spiced tea in its chamber.

"How so, my lady?" When I pause to take a sip before answering, the merchant continues in his sickly sweet voice, "It seems as though you've gone through one too many trials to have such a positive outlook."

I glance down at my scarlet satin and black lace gown, falling smoothly over my slender shoulders and flaring at my ankles. The whole affair is tailored to match Casimir's outfit, which is less elegant scarlet and more of a masculine crimson, his lacking in as much lace, of course.

"We're optimists." I tilt my head and force the corners of my lips upward in a knowing smirk, a trademark of the infamous Belynneda twins.

"As for our luck," Casimir continues, his black gloved fingers sliding delicately over the handle of the teacup, "we have each other, don't we? We have this house, capable servants, and we have our fun. What more could we possibly ask for, hm?" Casimir lets out an amused laugh.

"Yes, well, you have had your hardships, little lord. Don't you agree, Ran Mao?" The escort nods silently, pressing her ample breasts against the merchant's arm as he absentmindedly pats her on the back like a kitten.

"Such a vulgar display," I murmur, raising my brow at Lau. His knit together, seemingly confused. "And in such of a large audience. What are you a merchant of, Mister Lau?"

"What am I a merchant of?" the young man smiles kindly, his hand trailing up to rest on the girl's head. "Why, that's easy; I'm a merchant of pleasure."

"And what in the world does that mean?" Casimir practically giggles into his tea, his brilliantly emerald eyes tracing the dancing figures fluttering behind Lau and his escort Ran Mao. Before he can answer, my handmaid Alexandra appears with a tray balanced high on the tips of her white gloved fingers. She performs a single handed curtsy, glasses on the tray never once clinking, and plucks my teacup from my hands.

"Alexandra," I protest as she places my dish on the tray and moves towards the kitchen. I trail on her heels, Casimir keeping pace with me. I can practically see the amused smirk on her graceful features as she rubs it in. "Alexandra, don't you dare make a fool of me in public." I hiss to her, knowing full well she can hear me over the music. She swings open the kitchen door without another word.

"'Ello, Alexandra!" The cook, Myles, greets without looking up. His hands are buried deep in the cupboard and only his fiery hair that always manages to stand up on end is visible over the general messiness of the place. Soon enough, he stands, his face streaked with flour and a huge grin. "Master, mistress, what brings you around to these parts?"

"Alexandra stole my tea," I pout, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Who let you drink the tea!" Myles exclaims, dropping a rather large chopping knife into the wash basin.

"Why shouldn't I be allowed to drink tea?"

" _Someone_ ," Alexandra says cruelly, her Italian accent slurring the hard vowels, "carelessly poured too much alcohol in the first few pots, my lady."

"This should be getting interesting then," Casimir laughs. Myles rubs the back of his head sheepishly, smearing flour in his hair.

"Should I go tell Sylvia to recall the tea?" No sooner does he ask than the aforementioned house maid, Sylvia, a young girl of only sixteen with silvery hair and a crooked nose, come flying into the kitchen from the garden door, her apron stained with mud and her face flushed.

"Sylvia, please, hold yourself together!" Alexandra berates, setting her platter down and shooing Sylvia back out the door. "Don't stain the floor. What in the world happened to your pinafore?"

"Someone put alcohol in the tea, and it's gone mad!" She exclaims.

"Oh, wonderful!" I clap my hands in excitement, pulling Casimir from the kitchen and back into the party. Sure enough, a scuffle has even broken out. Two older men are attempting to sluggishly strangle one another. One man has the other by the tie, the second has gone nearly purple in the face.

"I suppose we should stop them," Casimir suggests, even while a grin breaks out on his face.

"We probably should," I agree, unable to keep my own enjoyment from showing.

"Master, mistress, shall I put a stop to this?" Alexandra's voice comes from behind us, and I start.

In response, Casimir strides forward and says quite loudly and sternly, "Excuse me, gentlemen, but is there a problem?"

But drunk men are very rarely still only men. Drunk men seem to know no boundaries. So the drunk man who was attempting to strangle the other by his tie leaps on to my brother. The elder man's thick, pudgy form sends Casimir stumbling, crashing into a table. Not a second later, the same table collapses.

I don't quite feel myself moving forward, but I do, and suddenly the dagger I keep strapped to my leg is in my hand. I kneel over and press my knee into the man's shoulder blades, the tip of my shining silver dagger poised viciously behind his ear.

With a grunt, Casimir tugs himself out from under the man, his clothing thoroughly torn and wrinkled. He angrily brushes himself off, straightens his waistcoat, and pushes his glossy ebony curls from his eyes. With a vindictive, calculating stare, he picks up his foot and presses it gently down on my hand, the one holding the knife.

In front of more than thirty members of high society, Casimir presses my knife into the man's head. He lets out a guttural moan, which fades into death throes. Casimir takes his boot off my hand and I climb off the man, taking my knife with me. In a large, sticky bubble of blood and a wet squelch, the knife releases from his brain.

As the man stills, Casimir gives me a glance with his brilliantly green eyes and his arrogant smile, and we burst out laughing.

 **_-X*X-_**

I let out a piercing scream from atop the landing. It rings through the nearly empty entryway. The occupants, Casimir and Alexandra, both cast me a short glance. Our guest, dressed in the standard madhouse assistant sterile white gown, glares at me over her cap.

"You're back again," Casimir notes coldly, crossing his arms over his chest. He and I remember this particular assistant as the one who treated us with the electroshock. I rub my wrists absently.

"You have no business taking us anywhere," I shout crossly.

Before she can respond, the kitchen door bursts open and Myles, looking much like a candle with his floury skin and bright red hair, runs in. William, gardening shears dangling from between his fingers, his bright hazel eyes wide, trails quickly on his heels. In the same second, Rosanne, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with her right hand, followed by a flustered Sylvia, tromps down the stairs.

"What in the world was that sound?" Myles demands.

"Somethin' wrong, mistress?" Sylvia asks fiercely.

"The lunatics are back," I mutter to her. Her eyes narrow. Rosy blinks at me and Casimir innocently with her single working eye.

"Why'd you scream, Acacia?" She asks, her voice husky and rough with smoke damage from the fire.

"Did she wake you, Rosy?" Casimir questions gently, bending down to her level and surreptitiously advertise her gaze from our unwelcome guest. "You go ahead and go back to sleep. Nothing's wrong, I promise."

"Are you certain, master?" Sylvia asks.

"Take Rosy back to bed," I order, my eyes still locked on the madhouse nurse. To Myles and William, who are still standing downstairs, I demand, "and you two may go back to your duties, thank you very much!"

With a backward glance, the three servants disappear back to where they came, Sylvia steering Rosanne gently by her small shoulders. When they've all gone, Casimir stomps moodily down the stairs, his boots making satisfying thuds on the marble. I match him pace for pace, matching looks of malcontent spread across our faces.

"You have no business here." Casimir sizes himself up to her, although she's easily two feet taller.

"Hello, Lord and Lady Belynneda," the nurse finally speaks in a high voice. I realize for the first time how incredibly young she is, no more than twenty-five now. She drops her head properly, a middle class citizen respecting a noble. "I was informed by an anonymous third party that you both are eligible for our care."

"Of course we are," I scoff decisively, "but you have no right to hold the Earl of Belynneda, myself as his first heir, our sister with her own claim to the title, or any of our four servants, as all are unaffiliated with the crime."

The woman blanches.

"Miss," Alexandra speaks up from where she had taken the woman's coat, "If you forgive me, I believe my mistress is correct. But," her lilting smile melts off her face. She crouches before us, takes each of our hands in both of hers, and says gently, "I think you should go."

"What, why!" Casimir and I shout at the same time, simultaneously wrenching our hands away.

" _Padroncina_ , _piccolo maestro_ , _mantenare la calma, i miei amori._ " Alexandra coos with large, sad brown eyes. Her honeysuckle hair falls gracefully to where it brushes her shoulders. Casimir huffs indignantly, covering his fear with his obviously fake annoyance.

"But why, Alexandra?" I murmur, just low enough so the nurse can't hear. "Why should we go back there?"

"You are stronger now, _mi amori_ , no?" She smiles and taps Casimir, who had averted his gaze. " _Piccolo maestro,_ you are much stronger. It would ruin your reputation more if you didn't go."

"I'm not going back," he protests crossly, a hit of sadness creeping into his voice. " _Il male a metà donna_ ," he adds under his breath.

"You wound me, Master," Alexandra chuckles, taking his hand once more. "But I will be there, and I will continue to serve you both until you've gotten your wish. I will make sure they do no more harm to you."

So for the second time in our lives, my brother and I are hauled to the madhouse.


	2. Conviction

" _There is nothing more demonic than two bored twins."_

 _-Bisco Hatori, Ouran HIgh School Host Club, Volume 2_

 **_-X*X-_**

I've learned two things in my life that I am absolutely certain I cannot mistake. The first of these is that sanity is figurative. This second is the stench of death. The madhouse reeks of it. It permeates every corner with its nauseating fumes. I realized very quickly that the stench of death is the finest drug a mortal could ask for.

"It reeks," Casimir complains, his legs crossed on his bunk. We refused shackles and bindings. They have no business holding us anyway, so what does it matter?

"Indeed it does," Alexandra agrees. She is garbed head to toe in the madhouse white, the hair framing her face drawn up behind her head. It almost unsettles me how at home she looks, so I keep my gaze set firmly on Casimir's. "Master, Mistress, you don't have to stay. I merely suggested that it would improve your reputation by a little, but if it pains you too much, you may discharge yourselves and we-"

"Stop talking, _idiota fastidioso_ ," Casimir sighs.

" _Il mio padrone brilliante_ , you act much too strong for your age," Alexandra chuckles.

"Stop talking, both of you," I demand moodily.

" _Padroncina,"_ Alexandra sighs, "we can leave if you like."

"No," I answer much too quickly, heat rushing into my cheeks, "we'll stay if they leave us alone, okay?" Casimir nods and Alexandra sighs.

At that moment, the door swings open and a nursemaid steps in. Without a word, she takes a letter out of her pocket, pushes it harshly into Casimir's chest, leaves, and locks the door.

"How rude," I scoff, all the while scrambling off my bed and onto Casimir's leaning over his shoulder to read the letter.

 _Earl Casimir Alecto Belynneda and Lady Acacia Megaera Belynneda:_

 _I was recently informed of your admittance into the Williams Asylum for the Insane. It displeased me greatly to keep such clever children in a place such as that, but I do understand your decision and can respect it._

 _However, it has also reached my ears that at a recent party, you both committed murder. As your personal friend, I am saddened to do this, but as your Queen I am obligated; as ordered from this day by I, Queen Victoria of England, Earl Casimir Belynneda and Lady Acacia Belynneda are sentenced to trial in the eyes of the crown. If found guilty, they are to be executed on grounds of murder; if found innocent they are to be freed without complaint._

 _Considering your family's past loyalty to the crown, I have granted you a pardonable chance. There have been a recent string of murders around East End. I have set my Watchdog on the case not long ago, but he has so far turned up nothing. In response, I am allowing you to help him. If you can together apprehend the criminal or criminals, you will receive a full pardon. If, however, you cannot, the trial will take place and I will have no power to deny the people what they demand, be it your deaths or your freedom._

 _I desperately hope you succeed._

 _Queen Victoria of England_

"How considerate," Casimir says blandly, crinkling the letter in his hand and tossing it carelessly into a corner of the room.

"They offer us a chance at a pardon as if we begged for our lives?" I giggle under my breath. "Oh, the irony!"

"Besides, who said death wasn't bad after all?" Casimir's wide emerald eyes narrow and roam to Alexandra, who only looks on disinterestedly back at him.

"You should get some rest, both of you," Alexandra suggests after a moment of tense eye contact with my brother. The Faustian contract seal on the hollow of my throat itches and I run a finger along the hemline of my cloth choker.

"Fine, just stop being such a child," I say poutily, dropping down onto Casimir's bed and curling close to his chest.

"Apologies, mistress." Alexandra smirks, tucking the blankets around us in a very motherly fashion, but pulls away when Casimir smacks her hand. "I shall strive to be more mature."

" _Out!_ " Casimir orders shrilly, the tips of his ears going red with the obvious jibe at our age. Alexandra smirks and bows herself out, closing the door silently. I shiver at the sudden cold in the room and Casimir's hold on me tightens.

It's been so long since I'd had a nightmare about the madhouse, but now as we lay here, I can feel the ice cold water they used for their treatments still dripping off my skin. I can feel the electroshocks wracking my body, the prick of the needle behind my eyelid, the leather cuffs around my wrists. It all comes back in my dreams, from the therapies to the cold concrete walls and the lingering stench.

It takes me a long time to get back to sleep after I awake the first time.

 **_-X*X-_**

Of course, we never really expected them to leave us alone. A woman, not Alexandra, as is obvious by her shorter stature and her rougher features, unlocks the door with a loud bang.

Casimir, who had woken before me as a much lighter sleeper, practically jumps out of his skin.

"Leave us alone!" He demands.

" _Lord_ Belynneda," she enunciates sarcastically in obvious disrespect for his title, "come with me, _if you will_."

"We won't!" He protests, standing from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Leave, now!"

"Hold on, Cas," I say calmly, noticing but ignoring my voice going shrill in fear, "I apologize, but my brother is rather stressed. I'm sure you understand. Where would you take us?"

"You have a visitor."

Casimir relaxes and the palpable tension drains from his body. He grabs my arm in sudden excitement, yanks me from the bed, and waves the madhouse attendant on. With a short roll of her eyes, she takes off briskly down the tiled hallway. As we walk, I watch the eyes of the other residents behind the food-tray flaps, following us with their dazed, semi-present gazes. I find myself idly wondering if that's what Casimir and I looked like when we were official residents.

Finally, the nursemaid pushes open a huge, shining oak wood door that leads to the beautiful entrance hall. There's a secretary's desk opposite the French-style double doors of the main asylum, and two hallways branching off into separate wings. The stylish entrance hall, usually hollow and with a kind of thick cloud of morosity hanging about it, is replaced by a thick tension I can almost hear. Well, there's a tapping. A shallow tapping of an annoyed foot on the polished tile.

"Who are you?" Casimir asks him, crossing his arms. The boy commands respect in every sense of him. Pride practically leaks out of his ears. He has regal blue eyes, one of which is clothed in a deep black eyepatch, slate grey hair, and an adorable little heart-shaped face. His shiny black shoes, still tap-tap-tapping on the tile match his sapphire waistcoat and shorts. Behind the imposing boy stands a tall, slender man, all black shadows and contrasting pale skin. I can tell by the way he holds himself, by that sly little hint of a smirk on his lips, that he thinks he's better than me.

"Earl Ciel Phantomhive," the boy greets. He takes a moment to look my brother up and down, starting at his brown boots, his black trousers, his pale blue waistcoat over crisp white shirt, all the way to his stunningly green eyes and still bed-tousled wild ebony curls. Phantomhive blinks once, slowly, and says in a voice just _dripping_ with condescension, "And I am correct in my assumption that you are Earl Casimir Belynneda and his sister, Lady Acacia, the infamous Snake Assassins, Cobra and Viper?"

"Observant, for the boy that requested to speak with us," Casimir says, raising his chin haughtily.

"What _did_ you wake us for, Earl Phantomhive?" I yawn.

His regal sapphire eye turns to me, scanning me up and down like he did my twin brother; from the light brown boots up the skirt and bodice of my pale blue gown, the black cloth choker around my neck, my own emerald eyes and along the curls of my onyx hair. He lets a small smirk grace his features, and it strikes me how annoyingly perfect he is.

"I represent Her Majesty, the Queen." He holds his hand out, the man behind him pulls something from his tailcoat breast pocket and hands it to the boy, who holds it out for Casimir to see. "You've received this letter, detailing the terms of your trial and the conditions of your pardon?"

"Last night," Casimir answers shortly, still bristling with the subtle haughtiness Phantomhive is showing.

"Then you'll know that I am the Watchdog," his small smirk widens.

"Of course," my brother lies.

There's a short pause, and I find myself wishing Ciel would just shut up. But alas, he doesn't miss a beat in the conversation.

"Very well." He turns briskly, raising his head indignantly. "I will send for you at your manor tomorrow morning at ten o'clock sharp."

Without another word, the prideful boy steams out, the shadow-man close on his heels. After a brief pause where Casimir and I glare daggers at his retreating back, my brother comments bitterly: "Why couldn't the Queen just have sent us a death notice? That boy seems incorrigible."

"Absolutely intolerable," I agree detachedly.

"Is it just me, or did he remind you of a harlot?" Casimir casts a mischievous smirk at me. "What with the glowing perfection and the rather conspicuous attempt to impress?"

"Why?" I grin back. "Are you wishing he was so you could take him up?"

"Only if I had your permission, of course."

"Scandalous," I tease, lacing my arm with his and setting off towards the door as well. "Perhaps you're the incorrigible one, _per sempre amico_."

As we open the doors and stride out onto the little stone porch, Casimir giggles and sits us both down on the last step to wait for Alexandra to find us and arrange transportation home.

 **So, here's the Italian translated.**

 **Idiota fastidioso - annoying idiot**

 **Il mio padrone brilliante - my brilliant master**

 **Padroncina - young mistress**

 **Per sempre amico - forever friend**

 **Review if you likey!**


	3. Theorizing

**Loads of thanks to the one and only DitzyQueen for the support!**

 **Ah… yes… I'm actually writing a story again… and I didn't forget about it, don't worry! XD I just finished a really good anime (World's Greatest First Love) and… and.. You know… Wahhhhhhhh!**

 **Anyway, enjoy, if you will.**

" _And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,_

 _They danced by the light of the moon."_

 _-Edward Lear, The Owl and the Pussycat_

 **_-X*X-_**

I suppose there's no real reason for my feeling of apprehensiveness to the arrival of the Phantomhive's carriage in the Belynneda manor's front drive. Casimir and I have worked on cases before; never any real detective work, as that was left to the less bloodthirsty, but we have a vague idea of what we're doing.

Nevertheless, Casimir paces the entrance hall back and forth, his black gloved hands clenching and unclenching, his jaw working irritably. I watch him, sitting on the stairs, tapping my boot under my gown's cream satin skirt. I'd imagine if someone were to walk in on the scene, they'd walk right back out again as they sense the tension.

"Casimir, Acacia," comes a smoke warped child's voice. Our little sister stands in the drawing room doorway, her right hand nervously tracing the jagged burn scar over the left side of her face. She bounces with uncertainty on the balls of her feet, the empty left sleeve of her dress swaying awkwardly where it's cinched at the stump of her arm. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting," I sigh, pinning my gaze back on Casimir, who stopped pacing and is now standing still but tapping his foot.

"Waiting for what?"

"A guest."

"Oh!" Her working features light up and she stops fidgeting. "Who?"

"Ciel Phantomhive," Casimir finally speaks up, "he's taking us on a trip, but we'll be back by dinner."

"Aw, you're leaving again?" The light blinks out of Rosanne's face. "But… But you just got back…"

"We know, Rosy, but it's just for today." I stand from my seat on the stairs.

Three solid knocks interrupt our conversation.

"Alexandra!" Casimir beckons sternly after a short, tense pause. "Hurry up!"

Immediately, Alexandra, back in her rightful pinafore over a soft lavender dress, her golden hair once more framing her face as it should, clicks quickly down the steps, breezes past the three of us who were already in the hall, and opens the door with her customary charm.

"Greetings, sir. I am Alexandra Divolo, the head maid of the estate. Do you represent Earl Ciel Phantomhive?" Her gentle smile is evident in her words, even though the Italian accent is already quite cheerful.

"Indeed I do, miss," a velvety, somewhat sordid voice responds. I can see a hint of black hair over Alexandra's head if I stand on my toes and the curve of strongly built shoulders clad in dark fabric. He stands only a few inches taller than Alexandra, and I am immediately reminded of the black-clad shadow-man from the asylum. He continues talking as I ponder. "My name is Sebastian Michaelis, the butler of the Earl of Phantomhive. May I have the pleasure of taking you and your master and mistress to our appointment?"

"Let's go." Casimir nudges Alexandra out of his way, and Sebastian bows him off the porch. I follow quickly in his wake, Alexandra behind me at a respectful distance. As we reach the carriage waiting with sapphire blue curtains drawn along the windows, Sebastian holds the door as the three of us enter. As he gets in, he closes the door, knocks once on the roof, and the carriage lurches into motion.

There is a pause, pregnant with tension and strung to and fro with my twin's conspicuous glares at Ciel, who only meets his eye and smiles coldly, a smile that doesn't reach his eye.

"He thinks he's so wonderful, doesn't he?" Casimir murmurs to me in Italian.

"You're being rude," I respond, also in Italian.

"Do you think I care, Acacia?" He raises one eyebrow. "Besides, you know I'm right."

"Of course you are."

"Should we kill him?"

"No," I scoff. "He's nobility, and even if he's a jerk, he's only a child."

"Yet I am a child to be reckoned with, hm?" Ciel speaks up in English. Casimir starts and quickly meets his eye. Ciel is wearing a lazy, know-it-all smirk on his perfectly pampered face.

"My apologies, Lord Phantomhive," Alexandra bows her head respectfully. "My master and mistress are not what you would call socially inclined. They-"

"So, Lord Phantomhive," I cut her off, feeling my ears redden with embarrassment, "may I ask how you came to need that eyepatch? There's always a good story behind an equally good injury, isn't there?"

His eye narrows in trepidation. He seemingly stumbles over his thoughts, but gains his cool back again in record time. Closing his eyes and leaning over his knees, I think he's not going to answer, and am surprised when he says, "My manor burned down when I was ten."

"Hmm," Casimir hums, leaning back against the velvety carriage cushion. "A classic story. The tragic little hero's unspeakable backstory: parents dead, left alone to fend for themselves, slowly builds up their life once more. A noble tale, Earl.

"We ourselves lost our parents in a house fire. Our father was murdered before our eyes, our little sister left mutilated, and we locked up in a madhouse."

"It does seem to be increasingly common…" Ciel murmurs.

Casimir is about to open his mouth again, but, thank goodness, the carriage rolls to a stop. Sebastian, Phantomhive's butler, closes the carriage door securely when the five of us have piled out.

We stand in front of a shop with dark windows, somewhere in downtown London. Casimir laces his fingers in mine and we both gaze up at the large purple sign.

"The Undertaker?" Casimir recites with interest.

"A contact of my master's," Sebastian supplies with his silken voice.

"I have met him," Alexandra comments, settling her sleek black cloak over her feminine frame. "He is an interesting man, to say the least." With that, Ciel leads the way confidently into the shop. The little bell tinkles charmingly with every little bump.

As Alexandra lets the door shut behind her, a sickly sweet smell hits me full on, sending my head spinning. I can detect whiffs of bitterness and despair as well. Casimir throws his free arm around my shoulders and staggers, gagging, "Oh, what the bloody hell is that smell?"

"That is the stench of death."

I whip my head around to see a man. His age is impossible to tell, as most of his face is covered in long silvery bangs. He wears charcoal robes and sits upright in an empty coffin.

"Hello, Undertaker," Alexandra greets warmly.

"Hello to you, Miss Alexandra," The Undertaker says with a wicked smile. "And to you, of course, my lord."

"Hello," Casimir responds at the same time Ciel demands information. Ciel ignores my brother, but Cas proceeds to glare daggers at his back.

"What kind o' information are you looking for, little lord?" Undertaker climbs out of his coffin and glides over to where Ciel stands, trying to look as imposing as possible.

"You know what I want," Ciel says exasperatedly, "All the information you have on the Sins' killings."

"Okay, explain," Casimir demands, snapping out of his angry little bubble. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Over the past few weeks, there have been a couple of related killings." Ciel recites this as if from memory, and I find myself somewhat impressed as he continues through his explanation. "The murderer targets nobility, and carves one of the Seven Deadly Sins on the victim's body."

"Well, continue," I command when Ciel stops talking. He casts a short glare at me but Sebastian quickly takes a roll of parchment from inside his breast pocket and begins to read off of it.

"Lady Beatrice Gulliver was found dead in an alleyway six weeks ago. On her stomach, the word gluttony was carved. Count Diarmad Nowell was found three weeks ago with the word envy engraved on his forehead. These murders match evenly to a copy of a list posted close to each body."

"A list?" Casimir mimics.

"Yes, a list."

"Well, do you happen to have a copy on you?" I ask, slight hints if irritation creeping into my voice. Without a word, Sebastian hands the piece of parchment over to me. Casimir leans over my elbow to read the list.

 _Beatrice Gulliver for your gluttony (Bye!)_

 _Diarmad Nowell for your envy (Bye!)_

 _Segenam Dott for your laziness_

 _Aleister Chamber for your greed_

 _Alois Trancy for your lust_

 _Casimir Belynneda for your anger_

 _Ciel Phantomhive for your pride_

 _We all die for our sins._

 _Love, Lucifer_

"It's a hit list," I deadpan.

"We are well aware," Ciel sighs.

"Casimir is on it," I insist, "So are you."

"Again, I am aware, Lady Belynneda."

"You're not going to do anything?" Casimir demands.

"If you have any ideas, please, enlighten us," Ciel smirks condescendingly. "Only murderers may get inside the mind if a murderer, am I correct?"

"That's right, _si invivibile feccia malato_ ," Casimir growls, lunging forward and grabbing a fistful of Ciel's waistcoat, pulling him viciously closer. "You'd best not forget that my sister and I are quite unstable, and we're armed."

"Your threats are shallow, Lord Belynneda," Ciel answers calmly. "And it seems to me as if you are the only unstable one here."

"No, Caci's just as crazy as me," Casimir chortles, releasing Ciel and stepping back. "She's just quieter."

"More mature," I correct.

"Says my baby sister," Casimir huffs.

"By three and a half minutes," I mutter, "it practically doesn't count."

"We have work to do, if you two don't mind," Ciel fumes.

"Lead the way, puppy," Casimir invites, an amused tone permeating his voice.

"Puppy!" Ciel stammers indignantly. "I am the Earl of Phantomhive! What gives you the right-"

"Please, Earl, don't shout," I smirk, "it's very rude." With an utterly triumphant tilt of his lips and yet another amused giggle, my brother hooks me around the elbow and practically pulls me out of the undertaker's shop.

 **_-X*X-_**

I get the strange feeling that Ciel blames my brother for the lack of accomplishment today. Everywhere we went, from the Undertaker's shop to the harbor at East End where the last victim had been found dead in a barrel of tea about to be exported to Korea, they always managed to throw some kind of insult at one another. Boys are so immature.

"He's so-" Casimir stammers heatedly when we finally sit down to evening tea in the drawing room. His hands are shaking so much that his delicate teacup is tinkling on its saucer. His hand of cards, a game Rosy insisted we play with her although with only one hand, she must spread hers out on her lap, rests forgotten on the low mahogany table next to a beautiful platter of chocolate croissants.

"He's so what, Cas?" I tease, casting a meaningful glance at Rosanne.

"He's so… you know, Caci. He's a smug little-"

"Puppy?" I supply, grinning behind my cards at his loss of appropriate words to use in front of our ten year old sister.

"Close enough," he agrees, picking up his cards again but not making a move even though it's his turn. "Not telling us. Come on now, he knows it's _our_ lives on the line, right?"

"His is too, you know." I meet his eyes, lowering my voice in a conciliatory way. "You saw the list, Cas, don't be so selfish."

"You're worried about him now, are you?"

"Of course not, just listen to me for a minute," I sigh. Casting a short glance, I make certain Rosy is occupied with her croissant and an impromptu card castle before continuing. "He must be angry because his name is in the list, right? But did he seem overly irritated with anyone else?"

"No," Casimir ponders around his teacup's rim.

"So, why not?"

"Maybe he's not scared of death," Casimir suggests. "Perhaps he knows his survival is assured, or perhaps he's just a complacent little-"

" _Cas_ ," I cut off. "Think. What's a logical explanation for this? Why could he seem so certain of himself?"

"Because…" After a heartbeat, I see the realization dawn in his eyes. He slams his cards down on the table, knocking his teacup on its side and spilling dark liquid all over Rosy's mess of cards. "Caci, he knows he's not going to get himself hurt!"

"But why?" I insist, leaning forward into the middle just as he does the same, pressing our faces so close our noses are almost touching. Casimir smiles at me, one with faint traces of warmth under a layer of ice.

"Because he's the one behind the killings, Caci."

"This is a severe accusation you're making, Lord Belynneda," I smirk back. "How can you be so sure?"

"Simple, my lady. He is the Queen's Watchdog, and she _did_ want us out of the madhouse, so she set up her little puppy to do her bidding. Give us a simple case and send us home unharmed."

"And the letters?" I probe, excited. "The hit list? Why was his name on it? Why was your name on it?"

"To throw us off," Casimir says easily. "By putting his own name on it, he'd be a less likely suspect. By putting my name on it, I think he'd probably be adding a little flair, or maybe trying to get us all panicky."

"What about the victims?" Why would Queen Victoria kill off her own people?"

"Hm," Casimir huffs, sinking from his euphoria. He leans back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. Puffing out his chest indignantly, he says, "Yes, well, she's a queen, who the hell has a clue?"

In a low, dangerous voice, I question, "Well, Cas, what are we going to do about this little liar?"

Smirking once more in the sly, virulent way that crowned us irrevocably insane, he says, "Why, we kill him, of course."


	4. Softening

**I'm beginning to wonder if everyone hates this story. ;-; It was a crash and burn before but I think I just made it worse. I know everyone hates anti-heroes on this site for some reason, so… we'll see how this chapter goes. It's got more a happy ending.**

 **Enjoy, I guess...**

" _It is not the size of the dog in the fight, it is the size of the fight in the dog."_

 _-Mark Twain_

 **_-X*X-_**

The next day when Ciel picks us up in his sapphire velvet carriage, Casimir manages to not start an argument. Although ignoring each other like ten year olds, the day goes rather well.

Having accomplished nothing at the undertaker's shop yesterday, we stopped there first, much to Alexandra's delight, but left no more the enlightened thirty minutes later. According to the silvery haired shopkeeper, all his information came with a price that when paid offered nothing other than the fact that he knew little about it himself.

Depressed, with the light of day quickly diminishing, we and the Phantomhive party climbed dejectedly back into his carriage. However, on the bumpy ride home, Casimir broke the tense silence that settled around the five of us with a cheery, tense laugh, such a sudden laugh that even I start in my seat as Casimir collapses over his legs.

"Oh dear, Lord Belynneda, please do control yourself," Sebastian suggests quickly.

At the same time, Alexandra exclaims, " _Maestro_ , are you well?"

"Of course, Alexandra," Cas gasps through his convulsions.

"Then why are you laughing like a lunatic?" Ciel snaps.

"He finds you funny," I supply when Casimir is rendered unable to catch a breath with his laughter.

"Funny?" Ciel demands indignantly.

"Of course. Absolutely hilarious." My face breaks into a huge grin, and I bite my lip to keep from becoming as incapacitated as my twin. "You see, Lord Phantomhive, at this point there's no need to keep up your act. We solved your little murder case."

"Have you now?" He drawls, smirking in such a way that makes him seem both apprehensive and amused at the same time.

"Of course. Your acting is substandard and you underestimated us to the fullest. You see, Lord Belynneda, we know this whole case was a set up from the beginning." I rest my hands on my knees, leaning forward in anticipation for what I'm about to say. Casimir's wracking giggles have even died down into a broad grin and beet red face.

"L- Lord Belynneda," Casimir finally manages, although his voice is strained. "We know what- what you did, how you set up a fake murder case and everything. And we hate liars so much, you know what we're going to have to do now?"

I watch Ciel's face turn rosy pink with embarrassment. "Are you accusing me of-"

"We're going to have to kill you, Lord Phantomhive," I finish somberly. Before he can add anything, I'm already hitching my skirt up to the hem of my shiny black boots. The heavy black lace rimming the soft satin skirt brings the garment swishing back into place when I release my grip, having plucked from my boot two twin leather sheaths tied together with an elegant black ribbon.

Undoing the bow calmly, I draw one of the daggers from its sheath, a glistening weapon all silver-wrapped handle, the hilt branching out into two matching little serpent heads, mouths opened in a fierce hiss.

"Are you?" Ciel questions rhetorically.

"Of course," Casimir answers in just about the same know-it-all tone. Casually, as if asking his opinion on the weather, my brother continues, "Now, how do you prefer to die?"

There's a heartbeat of a pause, and Ciel lazily blinks his single deep cerulean eye, then opens his mouth and sighs wearily, "You take too much time to talk. Sebastian, this is an order: protect me."

"Alexandra," I singsong, tapping the flat of my alloy blade on my lip, the tip even sinking into my flesh the teeniest bit. "Subdue Sebastian, but do not harm him."

At the same time Sebastian says, "Yes, my lord," Alexandra says, "Yes, _Padroncina._ "

Not half a second after, the carriage erupts into chaos.

 **_-X*X-_**

I have recently discovered that five fighters trapped in a moving carriage isn't the safest thing. Someone knocked very hard into a wall, the door popped open, and the carriage ended up on its side in the shadow of a particularly large tree on the dirt path that leads to the Belynneda manor.

Alexandra, her arms curled protectively around me, slowly releases me and says softly, "Mistress, are you harmed?"

"Cas?" I ignore her. I can't see. It's so dark, and my skin is burning.

"Caci?" In the darkness, I feel a hand slide into mine, but quickly realize it's not Casimir's, but too small to be Alexandra.

Before logic kicks in, the upturned carriage door, the one not buried in mud, swings open.

"Oi!" A voice calls. "Is everyone a'righ'?"

I squint up into the light and sit up cautiously. A young man is peering into the darkness. I can't see his features, but his hair is wild and straw colored and he's dressed all in white. My first impression is of a mud-splattered angel.

The hand that had found mine pulls away hurriedly. Uncomfortably close to me, Ciel sits up and looks around. Alexandra pulls herself into a kneel. There is dust in her golden hair and a smatter of blood on her chin. Casimir staggers awkwardly to his feet, hits his head on the curved carriage wall that had recently become the roof, and kneels back down straight on the glass-strewn floor.

"Where's Sebastian?" Ciel demands, anger heating his voice to boiling point.

"Dunno, young lord," the angel man responds. "Come on, then, I'll help you out."

Ciel pushes himself up until he's standing, just short enough to be able to stand comfortably. The angel man reaches down, and with a grunt, swings Ciel up and out of the opened door. He disappears and reappears a second later.

"You're Lord and Lady Belynneda, righ'?" He asks perkily.

"That's right," Casimir affirms.

"Master," Alexandra interrupts from behind me. She scoots forward and lifts Casimir onto her shoulder and stands so he clears the carriage completely. After doing the same to me and depositing us both on the curved carriage wall where we slide to the dirt below, she stands in the empty hole, her shoulders sticking out, and wiggles herself gracefully into the open air.

"What a mess," Ciel sighs, eyeing the twisted mass of splintered wood and jagged glass, turned dejectedly on its side. One of the horses is long gone, the bridle having splintered, while the other is pinned down by the majority of the carriage, its eyes blank and staring.

"We are not far from the Belynneda manor," Alexandra says calmly. Each of her hands is resting on Casimir and my shoulders, while my fingers are laced with my brother's.

"Let's go, then," Casimir suggests shortly. "It will be dark soon and I expect we're all hungry."

"What about Mister Sebastian?" The angel man exclaims. "We can' jus' leave 'im, Lord Belynneda!"

"He'll find us," Ciel says with disinterest at the same time Casimir teases, "Of course we can," and Alexandra agrees with Angel Man.

Casimir and I both stare at Alexandra. She ignores us.

"Well…" I finally break the awkward silence.

"Yes," Casimir agrees, brushing Alexandra's hand off his shoulder and pulling me forward. "Let's go."

 **_-X*X-_**

As soon as the huge front door opens, Myles, miraculously not covered in flour for once, darts from the kitchen. On his heels comes Sylvia, her long silvery-blonde hair down instead of in its usual twisty bun and William, boots covered in mud.

"Sylvia, go get some towels," I command moodily, shaking rainwater from my hair. It had suddenly started pouring, making our sad little party even more miserable.

As the maid scurries quickly off, Myles says, "Master, Mistress, you're late coming home. This guy in a suit showed up just before you gut here, he said your carriage crashed."

"Mister Sebastian is here?" The Angel Man sighs.

"I think that's what he said his name was."

"Well, where is he?" Ciel asks calmly.

"Mistress Rosanne, erm, that's Master Casimir and Mistress Acacia's little sister, took a liking to him," Myles laughs nervously.

Ciel sighs. Evidently, this is going to be a very, very long evening.

"Erm, should I go fetch him?" Myles suggests into the tense silence that follows.

"No, go start on dinner. Alexandra will help. William, lead Lord Phantomhive to Sebastian but _make sure to get Rosy out of there_ ," my brother hisses the last order. William nods once, dips lowly into his characteristic sweeping bow, flashes a grin, and beckons Ciel to follow him.

Once they disappear up the stairs and Myles and Alexandra start on dinner, Casimir takes my hand and says exasperatedly, "This is going to be a long day."

Silently, I agree.

Cas is taking me up to the study, where he'll probably rant more about being stuck with such an uptight, stubborn, prideful little thing as a partner, when, just before he opens the door, I stop him.

"What, Caci?" He asks tiredly.

"Shh. Listen," I command, pressing my ear to the study door. Casimir follows suit.

Coming from the study is the most beautiful music. Violin strings made to sing, coupled with the melody of a flute, the match of which I have only heard from two people: my mother, and Alexandra. I find myself floating, lost.

And then it stops, and I fall forward, sprawled ungracefully next to Casimir.

"It is quite rude to eavesdrop," Alexandra teases from above us. I climb to my feet calmly, Casimir matching my movements.

"Oh, Casimir, Acacia!" Rosy pushes past Alexandra, who I notice is holding her beautiful silver flute in one gloved hand. "Come in here! This man showed up on our doorstep- _he's absolutely magnificent_ -he plays the violin and Alexandra sound so perfect together!"

Her single working cobalt eye is sparkling under her obsidian bangs.

"I am flattered, miss," comes the velvety voice of Sebastian from inside. Rosy practically glows, grabbing my hand with hers.

"Oh, oh, and he works for, guess who. The actual owner of the company that makes all of those sweets! You know, Fun- something. You should come meet him!"

I am tugged into the room, having to bend a little bit so Rosanne can reach my hand. Ciel sits on the plush fainting couch that is pushed against a mahogany book self, adjacent to the grand writing desk. Sebastian is standing opposite it, a violin in one hand and a bow in the other.

"Who… Who gave you permission to use that violin?" Casimir demands as soon as he sees it. Taking a closer look, I gasp. It belongs on the bookshelf behind the fainting couch on a stand designed especially for it.

"Miss Rosanne," Sebastian answers calmly.

"Put it back!" I demand hotly. "That belonged to our mother!"

"Oh, please let him use it, Acacia?" Rosy begs, her eye widening. "Please? He plays so beautifully."

Casimir looks indecisively between Rosy, Sebastian before turning once to me and sighing, "Very well. But only for you, Rosanne."

"Oh, and this is Ciel PHantomhive!" Rosy continues.

"We've met," Casimir responds shortly.

Rosy turns her sparkling eyes on him. I can see the corner of a smile from around her thick braid. She says to Ciel, "You have blue eyes just like me! Oh! And you've got an eyepatch too!" She giggles, her voice warped. "You're just like me, right? I lost my arm when the manor burned down. How did you lose your eye?"

"In a fire," Ciel says softly.

Rosy laughs again, and reaches out to touch his forehead affectionately. Ciel stiffens for a moment, before regarding her and relaxing. Rosy grins widely and says in a softer, lighter voice, "You and I are just alike, aren't we?"

A small smile graces Ciel's features. I meet Casimir's gaze with my own, and can tell he's thinking the same thing.

Maybe, just this once, we ought to give him a second chance.

 **If you've read my OC fics before, such as** _ **Ouran Infiltrated**_ **or** _ **The Indigo Illusionist,**_ **you'll be well aware of my fondness for naming puzzles! My Name Game is created using the names of my original characters and the meanings behind the names. If you want to play, comment the meanings of the names and how you think they tie into the story!**

 **With love, bye bye!**


	5. Spilling

**So, thanks so much to CatsFoxesAndFurryAnimals for following and for the best review I have ever gotten. As well as playing the Name Game (thanks!) s/he left a heartfelt, incredibly wonderful review that I cannot give enough thanks for.**

 **Enjoy, and be like CatsFoxesAndFurryAnimals because s/he rocks!**

" _Kiss a lover, dance a measure, find your name and buried treasure. Face your life, its pain, its pleasure, and leave no path untaken."_

 _-Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book_

 **_-X*X-_**

Fear does inane things to the mind. At least, this is what I've always thought. Fear is what I pass my actions off as. Fear is how I justify murder. The fear of living, the fear of dying, it's all so utterly ironic. At least, that's what I've always thought.

I tell people I have no fear, but that's not true. Everyone has one, whether it's deeply buried or not.

I am terrified of heights. Casimir is scared of the dark. Rosanne is claustrophobic. I know all of this, but I haven't yet asked, or thought to ask, what Alexandra's fear is.

I close my book as she rolls a tea trolley into Casimir's study, the wheels squeaking over the sound of the storm raging on outside. My booted feet tap impatiently against the velvety fainting couch until a glass flute of pudding and a teacup of _Temperatura Dell'Anima_ is handed over to me. I regard Alexandra as she wheels the trolley back out.

"Hold on, Alexandra," I say finally.

"Yes, _Padroncina_?"

"Do demons have fear?" I question blithely. "I was just thinking how humans are scared of things and I don't know your fear."

"We have minds, miss." Alexandra tilts her head charmingly, her exotic, rust brown eyes locked on mine. "Of course we fear."

"Well, what are you scared of, Alexandra?" Casimir chimes in, lacing his fingers together over his pudding flute and resting his chin on them. "That's an order, by the way."

"I have never really thought of the answer before," she says, pressing her thumb to her bottom lip in a thoughtful gesture. After a moment, she says, "I suppose… I am afraid of fruitless labor. For example, if I were to be unable to collect my reward at the end of our contract." She blinks, smirks, and when her eyelids open again, they are the color of fresh grapefruit. The contract seal on the hollow of my throat itches uncomfortably.

"You're such a child," I pout, my hand flying to my throat. Casimir glances at me and gestures with his pudding spoon for her to get out. She curtsies, her eyes melting back into their cinnamon spice color, and closes the door behind her.

"She fears fruitless labor," I say thoughtfully around my spoon and a mouthful of the French creme pudding. We are rather fond of vanilla and creme.

"I am not so certain what we should do with that information," Casimir chuckles nervously, meeting my emerald gaze with his own.

"Nothing," I shrug. "We do nothing."

"If you insist," Casimir agrees.

 **_-X*X-_**

That afternoon, the storm has died down and it's much safer to brave the dirt roads outside. Casimir, Ciel, Sebastian, Alexandra and I all pile into our own carriage, a lovely affair of dark wood panelings and light lime drapes. With William at the coach's bench, we set off back into the world.

"Right, so, why are we dressed up like this?" Casimir asks hotly.

"I've already explained it to you," Ciel sighs. "But if I must do so again… The next man on the hit list, Segenam Dott, is hosting a ball today. It is an ideal time to speak to him personally."

"I presume you wish us to keep up appearances as well, Lord Phantomhive? We are to masquerade as nobles?" Alexandra asks, referring to her and Sebastian.

"Obviously."

Alexandra is stunning as always, but this time even more so in an elegant dress of deep black and violet. Her hands are clothed in elbow length opera gloves instead of the usual white worker's gloves. Her eyes are accented with a delicate amount of shimmering white powder.

The only one who could possibly match her in attractiveness is Sebastian, who is handsome in a mysterious way in a much more noble version of his black tailcoat, this one matching a crimson red waistcoat underneath.

Casimir and I match, this time much more subtly, he in dark brown trousers, a green waistcoat, and a black tailcoat. I wear a garment of layered emerald muslin and black lace, both of us with shiny black shoes and toned-down green and black headpieces atop our thick ebony curls.

Ciel is dressed in an elegant sapphire outfit, the same color as his eye, lined with black. His outfit brings out the perfection that shapes him, and it sort of irks me.

"And the point of this outing?" Casimir asks again.

"To speak to Duke Senegam Dott," Ciel growls impatiently.

"Tsk," I click my tongue. "Patience running thin?"

"You-" he starts, but Alexandra cuts him off.

" _Mi scusi, signore cucciolo,_ we are here," she says elegantly, accent mangling the hard vowels of the English language. Ciel scowls at the nickname but says nothing, opting only to climb out of the carriage as soon as an attendant opens it.

I take Casimir's arm and he leads us to the ballroom, where a swirling mass of people are chatting and flitting about like oversized, semi-intoxicated butterflies. On the edges of the dance floor, ladies gossip behind their fans and young men down flutes of champagne. Without a word to the rest of our group, Casimir and I weave ourselves around the dancing couples with the grace of snakes, bent on finding Senegam Dott first.

I hit something solid, and rip over Casimir's feet, righting myself before I can hit the floor.

"Oh, excuse me!" I exclaim politely.

"Pardon me," the person bows. I see now that he's a man of average build, with wavy caramel hair, smiling blue eyes, and a sculpted jaw. A half-full flute of champagne dangles from his gloved hand. "I do not believe we have met."

"Lord Casimir Belynneda," Cas says immediately. "This is my sister, Acacia."

"How do you do?" He smiles yet again. "Senegam Dott, at your service. I have heard the name Belynneda. Now where…?"

"Perhaps in the papers?" I smile my most charming smile.

"Ah, yes!" He snaps his fingers. "The infamous Belynneda twins. Pleasure to meet you."

"And you," Casimir agrees. "Actually, Duke, we intended to speak with you. Very pressing matters, in fact. Life or death."

"Oh?" He raises a bushy eyebrow. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that hit list in the papers, would it? I heard a few others were on it as well… Ciel Phantomhive, Alois Trancy, Aleister Chamber… You were too, Lord Belynneda."

"Very well aware of that," I say shortly. "Please, sir, may we speak to you in private?"

"Of course!" Senegam Dott exclaims. Within minutes, the three of us have slipped out of the party and into a deserted hallway. Dott opens a door and I find myself in a drawing room. He lowers himself with a sigh into a chair and gestures for us to sit across from him.

"Well, what is it?" Dott presses enthusiastically.

"The hit list, Duke," Casimir starts. "You are aware that the murder has already claimed two victims, Beatrice Gulliver and Diarmad Nowell and intends to claim your life next. Well, we have come to advise you to watch your back. The world is a rather dangerous place, is it not?"

"Well, I suppose it is, Lord Belynneda, but…" Dott trails off, clenching his fingers awkwardly around the stem of his glass.

"But what, Duke?" I prompt.

"...But you are only children, and we have just met. Am I meant to take your word?"

"Yes, you are," Casimir says hotly. "What does it matter if we are only children? Quite obviously, we are more prepared for this kind of situation than you."

"Ah, that's right, the hitman had you down for anger," Dott murmurs under his breath. "I apologize, Lord Belynneda, but I simply don't trust-"

A knock comes at the door.

"Yes, come in," Dott calls out. The door clicks open and a young man of slender build enters. He is dressed head to toe in deep black. There is a gentleman's fedora on his light brown hair, and his face is covered in shadows and a silvery mask.

"Who are you?" Dott asks.

"I am Lucifer," the man says softly. His voice is clear, cold, and quiet as if he's a meek person. And what's strange about it is that the voice cannot belong to anyone over the age of twenty.

"Lucifer? What kind of a name is that?"

"I apologize, Lord and Lady Belynneda," the young man ignores Dott, instead turning his shadow-and-silver face to us. My fingers twitch at the rim of my boot, and I have to force myself not to reach for my knives. This situation isn't right at all.

Slowly, as slowly as he talks, he reaches into a sack slung over his slender hip and pulls out a gleaming silver garden trowel. The trowel, the edge of which is meant to be dull and curved, as been filed into a vicious point. I can even see grooves where some harder material sawed it down.

In a flash, Casimir and I have pounced in a whirl of green and black. Snaking over and under one another in the effortless motions of those that can practically read the other's mind, we have pinned the young man to the ground. I have one knife poised over his eye, the heel of my boot digging into his lean stomach, while Casimir is holding his left arm, the one with the sharpened trowel, firmly to the ground.

"I did not know you had that ability," the young man gasps.

"You don't know us," Casimir says calmly.

"Of course I do, master." I can hear a smirk in his cool, soft voice. "Have you not guessed it yet? Do you truly not know who I am?"

"I know you're a murderer," I supply.

"Good guess, miss," he chuckles. "Perhaps… I should call you… _Padroncina?_ "

"How do you know that name?" I snarl, my dagger lying flat against his cheek at this point.

"I have heard Miss Alexandra call you that many times." I can again hear a smarmy smile underneath his mask. "Go on, miss, take off my mask."

Almost before he's finished talking, Casimir digs his fingers under the seam between the silvery mask and the young man's skin, tearing it off. Underneath, smiling viciously up at us, splattered with mud, is a very familiar face.

"William!" Casimir and I cry in unison. Alone, Casimir continues, "William, _you're_ the hitman? But… why?"

"You belong in a madhouse, master," he says in his cold voice. It's so strange to hear William speaking; for three years, I thought he was mute.

"I know that as much as the next guy." My twin's voice is almost sad now. "Why, William, you're so nice! Acacia, Rosy and I, we are all so fond of you!"

"I do apologize, master, but I knew you'd understand. People must die for their sins, no matter the consequences to those who deliver that death, don't you agree?"

"You planned to murder Cas," I realize out loud, a hint of despair creeping into my voice. "Why, William?"

"I truly _am_ sorry, my lady."

"You know we're going to have to kill you," Casimir says solemnly.

"I know," William whispers, smiling anyway. His eyes meet mine. "Go ahead, my dear, but please, promise me one thing?"

"What is it?" Casimir asks.

"Promise. Promise me first," William insists.

"I promise, William. What is it?"

"Continue my work. Please. That's all I ask." His bright eye bore into mine, wide and excited. " _Become Lucifer, master, miss._ "

Almost reluctantly, I bury my knife deeply into his shimmering eye. William dies with a smile on his face.

Casimir looks from me to William, who would look almost peaceful except for the bloody hole where his eye used to be, and then at the pale, terrified face of Senegam Dott.

"We made him a promise, Caci," Casimir says, voice dull but green eyes shining with anticipation.

"Go on then, Mister Justified," I tease, drawing my knife out from William's face with a wet squelch. I nudge his cheek away from me as blood jets from the hole in his eye, standing quickly to avoid getting bloodied.

We leave the room with two dead bodies in our wake and not a spot of blood on our clothes.

 **_-X*X-_**

Hands grasp me around the shoulders and a breathy voice wrapped in Italian accent whispers to me, "I can smell the blood on you, _Padroncina_."

"You're a creep," I murmur back. "Senegam Dott is dead. So is William. I'll explain when we get home, okay?"

"Very well, miss," Alexandra says calmly. I can feel her body heat disappearing as she walks back into the crowd.

 **As promised, here is the Name Game. This one is longer because I had a LOT of OCs in this one… Yeah.**

 **Acacia Megaera - The name Acacia means "thorn or briar" while Megaera is the name of one of the three Furies, creatures of mythology that punished people when they committed familial sins, like incest or murdering a relation.**

 **Casimir Alecto - Casimir also means "thorn or briar" and Alecto is also the name of a Fury.**

 **Rosanne - They call her Rosy, which is a direct reference to the whole roses have two sides thing. Rosanne is the sweet, pure little blossom while Cas and Caci are the thorns.**

 **Belynneda - The name Belynneda is a combination of two English names, Belinda and Lynne, which both mean "snake".**

 **Alexandra Divolo - The name Alexandra means "defender of man". Also, in Greek, Alexandra is an alternate name for Cassandra, who, in Homer's,** _ **The Illiad**_ **, predicted the downfall of Troy. In my story, Alexandra brings the downfall of Casimir and Acacia. Divolo literally means "devil" in Italian.**

 **Myles, Sylvia, and William - Myles has no clear definition, but several sources say that the name is a variant of Michael, which means gift from God (irony here, see?) or derived from the Latin "miles" which literally means soldier. Sylvia is derived from Latin "silva" meaning "forest" and directly means "spirit of the wood". William means "resolute protector" because I'm an ironic little sadist.**

 **Beatrice Gulliver, Diarmand Nowell, Segenam Dott - each of their names directly means whatever Sin they are. Beatrice is derived from the original demon of gluttony and Gulliver actually means glutton. Both Diarmand and Nowell mean "envious" while both Segenam and Dott mean "lazy" or "laziness".**

 **Thanks for playing!**


	6. Watching

**SOMEONE PLEASE REVIEW!**

" _Most have been forgotten. Most deserve to be forgotten. The heroes will always be remembered. The best. The best and the worst. And a few who were a bit of both."_

 _-George R. R. Martin, A Feast for Crows_

 **_-X*X-_**

The morning after Segenam Dott and William Chestnut were found dead, Casimir and I arrive for a mid morning meeting with Ciel Phantomhive.

"You've seen the papers?" Ciel asks blankly. "Duke Dott is dead."

"We heard," Casimir answers.

"I noticed you two sneaking off with him." Ciel raises an eyebrow. "Did you see anything suspicious?"

"Yes, in fact," I answer before Casimir can open his mouth and give it away. "I noticed that there was no list this time. Odd, isn't it? Perhaps the murderer was too preoccupied to leave it?"

"No," Ciel says shortly. "The murderer is a perfectionist, that much is clear. Also, you can see the patterns on the bodies are different now. In the other two, there were sloppy stab wounds, while in this one, clean slashes."

"Then perhaps they have an accomplice," Casimir suggests calmly.

"It does make sense; these do have patterns of ritualistic killings," I agree.

"Very well," Ciel says after a contemplative pause.

"I shall research religious cults in the area." Sebastian bows from where he stands behind Ciel.

"Go with him, Alexandra," Casimir commands with a flippant wave of his hand.

"Of course, _piccolo maestro_."

 **_-X*X-_**

There are eighteen days left until Aleister Chamber is slabbed for death. If he isn't killed in exactly eighteen days, they'll know. The pattern will be broken, and the murder will come to light. They'll know Casimir and I killed William and Segenam Dott. It isn't that hard to figure out.

"The cult we are visiting calls themselves the Band of the Silver Sins," Sebastian informs on the carriage ride as we near their base of operations. "Their beliefs center around purging themselves by forcing purer vessels to collect their evil energy and take it to Hell."

"Purer vessels?" Ciel questions. "What does that mean?"

"Children, Lord Phantomhive," Alexandra says grimly. "The Band of the Silver Sins sacrifices children. However, I expect all three of you to be fairly safe. The children they use are very rarely older than ten."

"Barbaric," Casimir shudders. "How has Scotland Yard not investigated this yet?"

"The Band of the Silver Sins is out of their control, Lord Belynneda," Sebastian answers. "They have such a large number of followers that attempting to do anything about it would be pointless."

"Their leader is a noble as well," Alexandra adds in her rich accent.

"Who?" I ask.

"You did not know, _padroncina_?" Alexandra asks, taken aback. "I thought I had told you. The leader of the Band of the Silver Sins was Beatrice Gulliver."

"Beatrice Gulliver?" Ciel mimics. "She was the first to die. Why would they kill their own leader?"

"Perhaps because everyone must die for their sins," Casimir teases with a sarcastic, cruel laugh.

"Yes, yes, you're hilarious," I brush my brother off, all while he is giggling beside me. Ciel huffs annoyedly, and I can practically see a nerve twitching at his temple.

"Excuse me, sirs and miss," Sebastian interjects, "we have arrived."

 **_-X*X-_**

The Band of Silver Sins is a strangely accepting group. With only the excuse of wanting to see how they go about business, they let us in! I cannot decide if they're ignorant morons, nice to a point of self-sacrifice, or too brave for their own good. Any quality could very well be as much of a weakness as any other.

But, no matter the quality, we join the cult by that evening.

They all wear long black, hooded robes during their meetings, which happen twice a day; once in the morning and once in the evening. When not meeting, the women wear simple silver gowns and the men wear matching tailcoats.

"I hate being told what to wear," I mutter to myself.

"You are complaining, _padroncina_?" Alexandra asks. I can practically hear her smirk.

"I think black suits you," Casimir adds flippantly when I huff and ignore her.

"Yes, fashion, very important, especially when investigating murders," Ciel interjects annoyedly.

"Shush," I demand. "I think it's starting."

Sure enough, in the middle of the circular room with its raised tiers of benches, someone is standing above the low, flat stone pedestal. Next to me, Ciel is fidgeting uncomfortably. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but manage to ignore him. Instead, I lock my gaze firmly on the robed person, who is raising their face to the silent room. Candlelight from the silver holders ringing the pedestal casts dancing shadows on the person's form.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the person says grandly. I identify the voice of a young woman. "We have gathered to purge ourselves of our sins; greed, gluttony, pride, avarice, wrath, laziness, and lust. All beings of free mind are tainted by their actions, so, as you well know, we empty our souls into a pure vessel so they may carry our sins to Hell." Her arms lower, and she draws back her hood. On her face, throwing shimmering patterns onto the stone floor, is a silver mask.

"Join me in prayer, my children, as we introduce our sacrifice. Tonight, we have chosen a girl of rare beauty, who has already been cleansed in fire and possesses a pure noble blood. Tonight, we thank the girl who gives her purity for the sake of the greater good!

There is applause for a moment, and then dies off. There is a tense sort of anticipation-induced silence.

A big oak door on the opposite side of the pedestal crashes open. Four figures in midnight robes exit, between them a young girl in pure white. I can hear the slap of bare feet underneath the soft tread of supple boots. The four in black lift her on to the flat pedestal, and finally they move aside.

I recognize her thick obsidian braid immediately.

Her head is whipping around, her one arm tied tightly to her torso. Under her bangs, I can see a white silken blindfold.

The priestess of the mass speaks again, "Tonight, we welcome Rosanne Belynneda!"

The air has left the room.

"Wh- Where am I?" I can hear her voice. It carries through the silence. "Excuse me, miss, I can't see. Can you tell me where I am please?"

There is a collective _shink!_ of metal as dozens of knives are drawn at once. One knife, raised higher than the others, over the priestess's head, the large sleeves of her robes pooling over her shoulders, glimmers in the dim candlelight.

It soars down, down, down.

But never makes contact.

The priestess wails. The ritual knife clatters to the stone flags. My brother is standing on the bench next to me, and one of his two daggers has pierced clean through the priestess's hand.

"There is a traitor here," The priestess moans, "who harms his own!"

"We mustn't suffer a beast to live!" A cry goes up from the stands. Calls of affirmation and agreement follow, and a hundred pairs of eyes, all swimming with malice, turn our way. I jump to my feet, followed by Ciel, Alexandra, and Sebastian, until five of us are standing tall among the heads of the black-clad cult.

My knives already in one hand, I wrench my fingernails into my choker and tear the fabric off. Silken ribbons fall to the ground, and over the angry cries, I call, "Alexandra! Take Rosanne someplace safe!"

Close to my ear and as plain as day, I hear, _"_ Yes _, Padroncina._ I will return for you as well."

There is a rush of wind, and when I glance over at where she was standing, I see nothing. As the cries continue, I clench my hands around my knives in anticipation and lean over to Ciel. "Are you scared?" I ask lowly, smirking.

"Of course not," he answers.

I have no time to ask why before the cultists rally and a dozen knives are on us from each side.

 **_-X*X-_**

"What a mess," I pant.

"Smells nice," Casimir says breathlessly, gasping for air.

The circular middle of the room, the place where the blood splattered all over the walls and benches is dripping and ending up, is already a thin film sloshing crimson up the sides and soaking through my stockings. It smells strongly of metal.

"You've killed dozens of grown people," Ciel says incredulously. "And your demon wasn't even here."

I am startled when he says demon before I remember the contract seal pulsating brightly on the hollow of my throat.

"Yes, well, those are the perks of insanity, I suppose," Casimir gasps. His eyebrow raises and he smirks. "You said demon, did you, Ciel? I couldn't help but wonder what's under that eyepatch of yours."

"An eye, of course," Ciel deadpans. I snort. Alexandra appears in the big oak doorway, which is still hanging wide open. She actually had the audacity to put on her lavender dress, pinafore, and slippers.

"You left us," I say coldly.

"And you fought brilliantly, _mi amori_ , do you agree?" Her condescending smirk is obvious.

"Maybe Segenam Dott isn't the lazy one," Casimir mutters disdainfully.

"Perhaps," Alexandra agrees calmly, a small smile gracing her lips. "Come, _belle guerrieri_ , it is time to go home. Do you have any requests?"

"I believe the least you could do is destroy this place," I say with derision.

"It will be done, _Padroncina_." Alexandra drops into a graceful curtsey. "To you, Lord Phantomhive and _ombra bello_ Mister Michaelis, good bye for now."

"And to you, Miss Divolo," Sebastian says, bowing shallowly.

"Sebastian, take me home," Ciel orders. With a soft affirmative, Sebastian scoops Ciel up in his arms and walks away from the bloodbath calmly.

I watch them go and can't help but wonder if I'll ever see them again, now that the cult members lay slaughtered on the ground at my feet. Before I have a chance to get over it, Alexandra sweeps me and my brother off our feet, settles us on each of her arms in the awkward yet graceful way she does, and just as a fire erupts inexplicably from the guttered out candles that lie charred and bloodied on the ground, and she speeds us off into the warm evening.

 **Here's the Italian translated:**

 _ **Padroncina -**_ **Little mistress**

 _ **Piccolo maestro -**_ **Little master**

 _ **Mi amori-**_ **My loves**

 _ **Belle guerrieri-**_ **Beautiful warriors**

 _ **Ombra bello -**_ **handsome shadow**

 **Please, please review! I need your feedback!**


	7. Setting

**Thank you to the glorious WriterFairy for your** _ **fairytastic**_ **support!**

 **Sorry I was gone so long. I got grounded for being "cynically depressed" and apparently "technology causes depression" BUT NEVER FEAR FOR I HAVE WRITTEN MANY CHAPTERS WHILE AWAY, MY DEARIES!**

 **So, enjoy!**

" _Hell, there are no rules here- we're trying to accomplish something."_

 _-Thomas A. Edison_

 **_-X*X-_**

"Acacia!"

"Go away."

"Acacia!"

"Uh, what!" I mumble, sitting up in bed so angrily that I knock heads with my brother, who was hovering over me, grinning like a fool.

"Ow," he rubs his head but his grin widens, and he waves a newspaper in my face. "Look at this. You'll never believe it!"

I snatch it moodily from his hand and unroll it, Casimir inviting himself to sit down next to me on my bed. The front page shows a flattering photograph of a young, sharp-boned man with golden hair and a winning smile.

 **Aleister Chamber Found Dead**

 _Despite the best efforts of investigator Earl Ciel Phantomhive and Scotland Yard, the Viscount of Druitt, Aleister Chamber, was found dead in his home the night of June thirteenth. It seems as though the hit list found at the scene of every crime except Duke Segenam Dott's is as correct as always. Next on the list is Earl Alois Trancy._

There's more, but I stop reading.

"Dead?" I murmur. "He can't be dead. William is dead and we didn't kill Aleister Chamber. There must be another murderer."

"So let's contact Ciel," Casimir suggests cheerily. "We'll go meet this Alois Trancy and see if we can't protect him personally. Maybe use him as bait for the murderer?"

"Good idea," I yawn, "but why are you so happy? If Alois Trancy dies, you're next."

"Alexandra made croissants," Cas says simply. He stands up and skips from my bedroom, pausing shortly to turn around and add, "Chocolate croissants."

"Why didn't you say that before!" I exclaim, giggling and jumping out of bed, still in my sleeping gown.

"You've gotta catch up to me if you want any at all!" Grinning, my brother takes off down the hall towards the dining room.

"No fair!" I protest, speeding after him.

 **_-X*X-_**

The young lady who answers the door gets a faceful of newspaper.

"Oi!" She exclaims, pushing the newspaper roll out of her face. "Who are you, sir?"

"Casimir Belynneda," my brother answers. "We're here to see Lord Phantomhive about the murder."

"Oh! Oh, okay! I'll take you to the young lord!" She opens the door wider, although Alexandra has to close it when she forgets, and the young lady leads us up a flight of stairs and to a study, where she knocks on the door and lets us in. She bows and stumbles off over her untied shoelaces back down the hall.

"I expected you'd come by," Ciel says shortly. A copy of the newspaper is spread out over his desk and a sort of fury resides deep in his eyes. A teacup rests forgotten on the corner of his desk and his butler stands loyally behind him.

"You've seen the papers then?" Casimir asks pointlessly, waving his own newspaper roll around.

"Clearly."

"Aleister Chamber is dead," I state. "We were wrong."

"Which means…" Ciel prompts, his features stretching into a condescending smirk.

"Either there was more than one killer or-" I begin, but Casimir jumps in and cuts me off.

"Or we were wrong all together!"

"But what do we _do_ about that?" I ask.

"Perhaps we should try attacking the other side of the next one, hm?" Casimir raises an eyebrow at me. I stick my tongue out at him, understanding his strange choice of words completely, and my brother giggles at me.

"...What?" Ciel blanches.

"He's suggesting that instead of finding the murderer, we protect the next victim, my lord," Sebastian supplies from behind Ciel.

"Hm," Ciel drawls lazily. "It's a decent idea, but how do you suggest we go about protecting this Trancy fellow?"

"Well, that's simple," Casimir answers in an off-hand sort of way. "What do people love more than parties?" With a goofy grin, he turns me close to his chest and whirls me around in Ciel's study, still talking. "The dancing and the music and the food, who can resist?"

"Besides," I add, undaunted by Casimir's relentless twirling, "what better a way to make friends with someone in a happy environment?"

"Very well, we'll host a ball at my manor in a week's time. I'll prepare everything so-" he cuts himself off abruptly as I trip over my feet and Casimir and I go tumbling straight into Alexandra. Ciel cries, "Will you please stop dancing in my study!"

"See you in a week, _Ciel_!" Casimir laughs, referring to Ciel by his first name and blatantly ignoring his title before trotting out.

As my twin pulls me out, I cast an apologetic smile over my shoulder and call back, "Real sorry, Ciel!"

 **_-X*X-_**

Casimir and I arrive at the Phantomhive manor with linked arms, Alexandra behind us. The door swings open silently, and Sebastian answers with a smile.

"Lord and Lady Belynneda, Miss Divolo, do come in." He sidesteps to let us pass and shuts the door behind us once we're safely in the foyer. "I shall show you to the ballroom; the party has already started."

Yes, we're late. A full forty-five minutes late. There was this silly prank Casimir pulled that involved switching all of my clothing with Alexandra's, and his with Myles, and Rosanne's with Sylvia's, and dumping a vile mixture of flour and water over the grand staircase that ruined everyone's shoes. Thankfully, Alexandra sorted it out, but Casimir still insists on occasionally looking at me and pretending to brush flour off some part of me (I caught most of the flour-dumping) and laughing at my expression.

Entering the ballroom, I see that I had no reason to be worried as I was about looking nice. I, in a mint-skirted and chocolate-bowed dress with a lovely clip pinned to my onyx hair that trails a sheer lace fabric down my back, look just as exquisite as any lady here. Even Alexandra, still in her usual pinafore with only her hair piled elegantly on her head and the exotic tilt of her gorgeous cinnamon eyes accented with long lashes dusted with a shimmering power, looks gorgeous. After all, we're meant to make an impression on the Earl Trancy.

Casimir spots Ciel speaking with a young lady about his age and tugs me over to him. As soon as the little blonde girl spots us hurrying over, she turns and smiles glamorously.

"Hello!" The girl greets in a high pitched voice, "I love your dress!"

"Thank you," I respond coolly. "I don't think we've been introduced."

"How rude of me," Ciel interjects stiffly in that nobleman-meeting-another-noble type of voice. "Elizabeth, this is Lord Casimir Belynneda and his sister Lady Acacia. Lord and Lady, this is my fiancée, Lady Midford."

"Oh, nice to meet you!" She squeals. "I'm Elizabeth Midford, but you can call me Lizzie."

"Pleasure," Cas responds, taking one of her hands in his, smirking once at Ciel, and kissing her knuckles. As he pulls away, a blush that matches the pastel pink of her dress dusts her cheeks. Ciel's mouth opens, most likely to make an utter fool out of himself, so I do him a small favor and interrupt him.

"Lord Bel-!"

"Sorry to interrupt, Lord Phantomhive, but do you know where we could find the guest of honor?"

A soft hand lands on my shoulder, and a voice thick with an Italian accent says, " _Padroncina, lui è il ragazzo che assomiglia a un angelo._ "

I turn to look up at my maid and follow her gaze with my own. I watch just long enough to catch glimpses of a boy with platinum hair and a smile that, although icy, seems to warm the room. He is falling all over a taller, bespectacled man and making a pair of nearby older gentlemen very uncomfortable.

" _Grazie_ ," I thank her, already tugging gently on my brother's arm for him to follow me.

"What, Caci?" Cas hisses through his teeth. "Stop pulling me."

"Lord Trancy is over there," I insist.

"So go talk to him," he sighs. With a huff, I unlace my arm from my brother's, and creep along the walls, away from the crowd, and to where Alois Trancy is giggling at a taller man in a dark suit, who is clearly ignoring him.

"Too much to drink, Lord Trancy?" I tease. He whirls around, almost spilling a flute of alcohol-spiced fruity punch all over his crisp white shirt.

"I can hold my alcohol," he responds sharply. "Who are you?"

"Lady Acacia Belynneda. I'm working with Lord Phantomhive on the hit list murders."

"You're a Belynneda, hm? One of those crazy twins? Are you really as insane as they say?" A small smile graces his lips, and he sidles so close to me I can smell the fruity alcohol on his breath as he talks. So, that's how he wants to play it, hm?

"Of course not," I say quickly. His smile falls and he takes a step back, but I tilt forward on the balls of my feet and murmur, "I'm even crazier." His face breaks into a grin.

"You look sane," he challenges, all the while leaning forward farther. He breathes in deeply and his smile widens. "But you smell crazy."

"I'm full of secrets," I deadpan, a smirk creeping onto my face. "I'll surprise you."

There's a pause, and Trancy finally says, "Do you want to dance?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask."

"Claude, hold my drink," he boy demands, and the tall man who was ignoring him when I walked up plucks the flute out of his fingers. Hands now free, Trancy leads me onto the dance floor, where a song is just beginning.

I've practiced dancing a lot in the study with Casimir. My brother's steps aren't anything like this boy's. Casimir and I seem to share a single mind; I know what he's going to do when he's going to do it, and when we dance, I don't bother making my steps match his since our legs are the same length. However, Alois Trancy is about three inches taller than me and my steps are half an inch off, so much that I'm clipping the sides of his boots, but still matching his movements. Plus, I have no idea what he's going to do next.

It's exhilarating.

As he swirls me around in the most grandiose manner he can, I catch a glimpse of my brother leaning against the wall, hands crossed over his chestnut brown vest, his mint green bow loosened ever so slightly, his face impassively watching me. I flash him a wink, his forest jade eyes lighten, and my vision of him is obscured again.

"So, Lord Trancy," I start, "are you not at all concerned about you being next on the hit list? According to the pattern, you only have two weeks to live."

"No, I've got my Claude after all."

"Duke Segenam Dott had bodyguards as well," I lie. "You aren't concerned in the slightest?"

"No one is as good as Claude," Alois repeats, practically shining with pride.

"And why is this Claude so good, hm?"

The dance comes to a slow stop and I drag my hand down the sleeve of his coat, lacing my fingers with his. A smirk creeps up my lips, and Alois Trancy smiles at me, the tip of his tongue protruding from between his teeth to swipe casually at his bottom lip. My smirk dies.

"Come with me, will you?" I hiss, leaning closer to him. His smile only widens as we weave through the crowd, slip out of the ballroom, and continue down the steadily quieter hall. When the music is only a distant humming behind us, I finally drop his hands and turn to regard him with a calculating gaze.

"What?" Alois finally breaks the tension.

"Stick out your tongue," I demand. Smiling softly, he does so. Just as I could have sworn, a yellow-orange Tetragrammaton rests on its top oh-so-innocently. Satisfied, I continue, "Good, now we can talk. So your demon, the taller man you were with, I assume, he can protect you from this murderer?"

"Obviously. Who's your demon?"

I tug on the ivory lace collar buttoned to my neck, and the fabric falls away. The Faustian seal on the hollow of my throat, nestled in the dip of my collarbones, pulsates lightly. Back in the ballroom, I know Alexandra can feel that I've revealed her. Here in the hallway, Alois smiles and I replace my collar.

"Lord Phantomhive, my brother, and I were going to offer you our protection, if you want it that is."

"Why would I need your protection?" Alois challenges.

"I suppose you don't," I agree, shrugging. With exaggerated movements, I cross my arms and turn away from him, chin up, and walk a few steps back to the ballroom. Almost as an afterthought, I stop, turn to look over my shoulder, and smile at him.

"But, _Alois_ , feel free to contact us any time."

"I don't even _like_ girls," he sneers childishly.

"And I don't like boys," I respond, holding in a chortle, "but my brother does and he's even crazier than me. So stop by whenever you like. I'm sure he'd love to meet you."

With that, I continue back to the ballroom, giggling into my hands.

 **Here's the Italian**

 _ **Padroncina, lui è il ragazzo che assomiglia a un angelo**_ **\- Little mistress, he is the boy that looks like an angel.**

 _ **Grazie -**_ **Thanks**

 **PLEASE REVIEW I LOVE YOU**


	8. Falling

**Hello, my lovelies! You get two chapters in one night because I really like this one a lot and I wanted you to read it.**

 **So, enjoy!**

" _Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind,_

 _Therefore the winged Cupid is painted blind."_

 _-William Shakespeare, A Midsummer's Night Dream_

 **_-X*X-_**

Alois Trancy shows up on our doorstep two afternoons after the party. Twelve days until his scheduled death. Casimir and I are sitting in the drawing room, absentmindedly playing a game of Solitaire, a plate of truffles between us, when there is a knock on the door.

"Master, Mistress, you have a guest."

"Come on in!" Casimir calls, leaning back in his chair.

The door swings open, and Alexandra holds it for none other than Earl Trancy. He skips in, practically radiating happiness, while his taller companion stays fastidiously in the hall.

"Earl Trancy," I greet fondly, "I'm glad you accepted my invitation."

His icy blue eyes lock immediately on my brother, and the corners of his mouth lift in a vicious kind of smirk. My gaze flicks to Casimir, who has a single eyebrow lifted, his arms crossed, and a lopsided, calculating smile on his face. His jade gaze travels from our guest's black boots, up his stockings, drinking in a sliver of pale skin just under scandalously short shorts, up a thin chest, to trace angelic features. I realize with a start and a barely contained giggle that Casimir is practically _undressing him with his eyes_ and Alois is doing the exact same.

"You invited him, Caci?" Cas finally asks, still gazing outwardly at Alois.

"Mm hmm."

"Good idea. Would you like to sit down, Lord Trancy?" In response, Alois, hips swaying noticeably, walks over and plops down right on Casimir's study desk.

Smirking, I break what quickly becomes a heated silence, saying, "Lord Trancy, this is my elder brother Casimir Belynneda. Cas, Lord Alois Trancy."

"Pleasure," Casimir grins, leaning forward and sticking out a hand to shake. Delicately, Alois takes his hand, lingering just a little bit too long to be mistaken for a first meeting between noblemen.

"Right, well, I'll be going then!" I laugh, shooting up and clasping my hands behind my back. "I'll see you both at dinner, I hope?"

"Hm? What was that, Caci?"

"Dinner," I repeat, enunciating each syllable. "You'll stay, Lord Trancy?"

"Oh yes," Alois agrees.

"Wonderful." I reach the doorway, where Alexandra stands at attention. I meet her rust brown eyes, and she raises a honeysuckle eyebrow in question. I shrug, smirk, and wave her away from the door. She curtsies shallowly and steps away, swinging the great oak door shut.

" _Padroncina_ ," Alexandra asks once the hall is cut off from the study. "Am I correct in assuming what _exactly you were doing?"_

"Depends _,"_ I giggle simply.

"You are cruel, mistress, more so to your own brother than to Lord Trancy, you realize." She shakes her head dejectedly and clicks her tongue. "But if _piccolo maestro_ is content for now, there is nothing I can do."

"What do you mean?!" I demand. "Why the lies, Alexandra?"

"I cannot lie, miss, you know this." She casts me a saddened look through her lowered lashes. "I only mean to say, well, _bello,_ you are aware Lord Trancy is marked for death."

"Yes, but-"

"I know of his butler, miss." She leans down closer to me, irises fading to the vibrant color of ripening wine. "He is the spider-demon; weak. He holds little power in our realm, _forte ragazza_. The young boy's soul is bitter."

"So?" I counter, hissing through my teeth as she did. "He is still a demon, right? He can _protect_ Lord Trancy, and if not, then you are more than capable-"

"Miss, that is not the point I am trying to make. The spider-demon is weak. Very weak. Each demon responds strongly to whatever created them. For example, I respond strongly to wrath, specifically, wrath created by love. The spider responds to unquenchable lust. His lust is his weakness; he unravels at the sight of an attractive face."

"Really?" I ask, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "And what is your weakness, _metà donna_? That's an order, by the way."

"My weakness," she sighs, blinking her eyes back to their milky chocolate color and brushing her fluffy golden hair away from her cheek, "is my speed to anger. But miss, please reconsider your-"

" _Al-ex-an-dra_ ," I enunciate angrily, reaching up on my toes to snatch her pinafore in my fists and yank her down to my level, lips curling over my teeth in a snarl. "I know better than you, got it? I know him better. He is _my brother_ , _my twin_ , not your meal. Not yet."

" _Scuse, cara_ ," Alexandra apologizes, lashes sweeping over her cheeks in respect, unable to curtesy in my hold. Her voice is actually softer, as if my outburst startled her. "But please, _bella_ , tell me why you invited him. Surely it wasn't…"

"Of course it was," I defend haughtily, "Casimir deserves to be happy, so I thought something like this might help. He's been strained since Aleister Chamber's death."

"But miss, a _courtship_? You are playing matchmaker. This is no game. Lord Trancy is marked for death."

"Why the hell not?" I demand loudly, releasing her. "I'll cut you if you keep this up, _idiota_."

"And I will not stop you, _cara_ , but please, listen to me." I look into pleading brown eyes for a moment, and think for half a second that Alexandra genuinely cares about us for more than a meal. Nevertheless, my senses come back to me as soon as she blinks, and we lose eye contact.

"Hellspawn!" I hiss, my left hand wrapping securely around one of my knives. "You say you don't lie!"

"And I do not, mistress."

"Liar," I accuse feebly, standing on my toes to bury my knife straight through the hollow of her throat. Her eyes dilate in pain and blood to match the color sparking in her eyes spills over her full lips. Amazingly, she doesn't reach up, doesn't react other than a shudder rolling down her spine.

"Do _not_ speak out against me," I hiss close to her face, yanking my knife away from her. Blood jets from her wound for a brief second and there is a sickening crack as her breastbone breaks, and then her skin stitches together again right before my eyes. I watch with muted interest as her windpipe inflates and her vocal cords snap back together.

"I promise you, I will do nothing of the sort in the future, _mi amore._ " She leans down close to me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, dwarfing my frame in hers. Alexandra's breath ghosts across my ear when she finally whispers, " _Dopo tutto, il tuo parere conta per me_."

"Sure," I scoff.

This time, I don't believe she's lying at all.

 **_-X*X-_**

Myles pulled himself together long enough to create a stunning dinner, dishes even Casimir was impressed by. We're both fluent in Italian and Greek, but only Alexandra was able to pronounce half the items she presented. Alois Trancy seemed less impressed by the food than with my brother and Myles, who made an appearance once. Trancy couldn't get enough of his hair. That is, until Rosy appears.

The door creaks open, Sylvia holding it for my one-armed little sister.

"Hello, Rosy!" Casimir calls affectionately. "Come here, there's someone you should meet!"

Rosanne limps across the remaining space between the door and the table, climbing on to her usual high-backed chair, placing her usual bouquet of flowers on the table (peonies and dandelions, like always) and turns respectfully to my brother.

"Rosy, this is Lord Alois Trancy. Lord Trancy, my second sister, Rosanne."

"Hi!" Rosy grins, distorting and stretching the hideous pink burn scar over her cheek and eye. "You're a new friend?"

"Only a friend?" Alois laughs, stealing a glance at Casimir, who chokes on a sip of water. I drop my fork and press my hand over my mouth, incapacitated with sudden giggles.

Still smiling, I glance at Casimir, whose lips are pressed together in amusement, and raise an eyebrow. He shrugs cockily, and I pout at him, only to receive a dismissive eye roll. He goes back to eating, but I'm still unsatisfied.

"Well, Casimir seems unable to speak at the moment, Lord Trancy. You two were up there for quite a long time, so you tell me."

"Wait, what?" Rosy asks. I tell her it's nothing, all while Cas and Alois break out in giggles.

"Oh, stop it!" I demand. "Stop being children or tell me!"

Alois finally composes himself and opens his mouth again, no doubt to make a retort, but Alexandra breaks up the conversation by announcing a baked apple and cinnamon pie. I sigh in defeat, but Casimir casts me a certain _look_ and I know I haven't been defeated yet.

Later that evening, after Alexandra left for the night, I find myself leaning over my bedroom window ledge, my torso half out of the window, watching as Casimir sees Alois off.

It is dark out the window, and I can only see them because of the light spilling from the open doorway. The only other person in the yard is our guest's butler, who is already sitting on the coachman's bench with his back to the door. I mentally plead with my brother to try not to be an idiot.

Talking, talking, talking. Alois laughs. Finally, Casimir bows in his joking, over exaggerated way, embraces Alois for a little longer than necessary, and waves him off as he skips the little way to where his carriage is parked. For a few moments after Alois's carriage has rolled off into the shadows, Casimir stands on the porch, backlit by the warm light inside. I can imagine all too easily his satisfied smile. Finally, I watch as his shadow pumps both arms high in the air, throws his head back, spins around once, and marches back inside.

I smile along with him, flopping down on my bed and pulling my duvet over my shoulders.

Not very long after Casimir disappeared inside, there's a knock on my door.

"Cas?" I call out cheerily.

"Can I come in, Caci?"

Grinning, I launch myself across the room, unlock the door, and fling it wide. There stands my brother, grinning ear to ear, the tips of his ears red with embarrassment.

"You were watching?" He asks, plopping himself down on my bed as I close the door.

"I knew you weren't a fool," I giggle in response. "So, what happened?"

"Well, first of all he's the most wonderful person I've ever met," Cas states, matter-of-fact. I poke him childishly in the arm, and he turns to me, saying, "Well, besides you and Rosy, of course."

"And…?" I prompt, drawing out the word in anticipation.

"And," he sighs slowly, composing himself, falling backwards on the bed and throwing an arm over his face, "that's all. I don't know, it's kind of hard to describe."

So, I smile along with him and try to ignore the nagging feeling deep in my gut.

 _ **Dopo tutto, il tuo parere conta per me**_ **\- After all, your opinion matters to me.** __

 **Review!**


	9. Fighting

**It makes me sad that I can't post regularly. I'm sorry, but I really am trying! Please don't hate me, friends. I need reviews and support.**

" _Death is nothing. But to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily."_

 _-Napoleon Bonaparte_

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Nine days_.

Alois Trancy had visited yesterday.

Casimir was scared of the dark. When we were little, he hardly spent time in his own room. Every night, he opened my door and crawled into my bed, as opposed to our parents. We were never very close to them. Since Alois started coming around, Casimir has been sleeping with me.

"Oh my, what an adorable picture you two make," Alexandra coos in her naturally sarcastic Italian accent, "I feel terrible for waking you."

"You should," Casimir groans. I huff into my pillow, wincing when Alexandra flings open the drapes.

"Apologies, _piccolo maestro_ , but there is a certain event I thought you would not be so keen to pass." I crack open my eyelid as I feel Casimir lift off the blankets and a blast of cooler air hit me.

"What event?" Casimir asks, suddenly interested.

"Well, considering it is the thirty-first of June…" She trails off. Gasping, I prop myself up on my elbows, lifting my face off my pillow so quickly I get a head rush.

"Oh, she must be so angry at us!" I exclaim, flinging the blankets for my legs and waving Alexandra over. "Alexandra, the cream and gold gown today, please. And do my hair, I suppose…"

"Very well, miss." She is already unbuttoning my nightdress when Casimir slips out of the door and closes it behind him.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Belynneda manor east garden, June thirty-first, 1888, 9:24_

"Happy birthday, Rosy!" Casimir calls, flinging the garden door wide open and stepping into pleasantly warm summer air, the sweltering heat fanned away by a breeze from the sea that, even though we're so far from it, is laden with the smell of salt.

"Thank you!" She calls back, waving at us. She sits under the small gazebo, the marble table erected in the middle strewn with flowers. In her thick onyx braid are tied even more flowers. Cas and I slide into the bench in either side of her.

"We get you a present we think you'll really appreciate," Casimir teases, smiling at her as he bows his head to allow her to place a badly woven flower crown over his glossy, wild jet curls.

"What is it?" She asks, her cerulean eye glowing as she places a matching crown on my own head.

"Actually, it's from a man Alois Trancy recommended we contact, some Baron with bandages all over his face."

"Do you want to see what it is?" I interject.

"Ye-es please!" Rosanne giggles.

I snatch up her hand in mine, and with a look at my brother, lead her through the garden, down the halls, and into the study, where Alexandra is waiting with a soft smile and a long, oblong box wrapped in lavender paper. She holds out the box to my sister, kneeling down on her knees so Rosanne can reach her.

"Happy birthday, small one," Alexandra wishes.

"Thank you, Alexandra," Rosy responds politely, plucking a peony from her braid and tucking it behind Alexandra's ear on the side where her golden hair is scraped back from her face. To my surprise, Alexandra smiles, a genuine, warm smile that fills me with hope and makes my heart soar, before retracting from Rosanne's personal space.

"Open it!" Casimir encourages excitedly, gripping my upper arm in anticipation.

Sitting on the fainting couch and settling the package on her lap, Rosanne tears into the paper, discarding it in a ball on the floor next to her feet, and prying open the light wooden box. Her excited smile falters in surprise, before widening with a delighted _"Oh!"_ and lifting the gift from its bed of cotton.

"Like it?" Cas asks.

"'Course I do!" Rosy responds after another stunned pause, fiddling with the fingers on the prosthetic arm. "Put it on me, Alexandra!" She demands excitedly.

Silently, Alexandra takes the porcelain appendage from Rosy's lap, rolls her sleeve over her shoulder, and fits the cloth-lined cup over the stump of her arm. It takes a moment, but Rosanne finally manages to wiggle herself into her brand new arm, bring it in front of her face, and flex the fingers in awe.

Then, when she gets over the shock of having both arms once more, something she had never even remembered having, she jumps up and wraps both arms around me and Casimir at the same time.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Six days._

Casimir has started leaving the manor before the sun rises and getting back at dinner time. He still sleeps with me every night.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Five days._

I purposefully stayed up all night, feeling my twin's breaths ghost across my face, absorbing his comforting warmth from under the duvet. I watch blearily through the deep shadows as his arm retracts from around my back and wiggles slightly from out of the bed.

"Casimir," I murmur. He stops in his tracks, one hand extended toward the door handle. "Where are you going?"

"I didn't know you were awake, _per sempre amico_ ," he mutters back.

"Clearly," I scoff, "Where are you going?"

"Away. I'll be back tonight."

"You're on a hit list, _amore_ ," I remind, sitting up and placing my bare feet on the floor. "I need to know where you are, in case you don't come back."

"Acacia." Cas finally turns to me. His forest eyes glow in the dark. He makes his way next to me, sitting on the bed and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I lean my head on his chest. "I'm an assassin as well. There's nothing to be scared of."

"Where are you going?"

"The Trancy manor," he admits quietly.

" _Ahhhh_!" I laugh. "My brother, sneaking off to see a boy, hm? What is it? A liaison? An affair? A tryst?" I tease him, feeling his body tense under me with each new accusation.

"Of course not!" Cas finally interrupts. "It's more like a courtship if I had to give it a name."

"Oh, even better!" I remark delightedly. "Did you kiss yet?"

" _Caci_!" He says indignantly, swatting me on the back lightly.

"Oh, you did! Who kissed who?"

"He kissed me. Now, I have to go."

"Have fun!" I giggle, falling back as Casimir stands up.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Three days_.

Casimir is growing tense. Today, he stuck around the house for a while, pacing the foyer and refusing offers of food. Alexandra and I stand on the second floor landing, talking in low voices and watching Casimir, who sits on the steps with his head in his hands.

"I'm worried about him," I say quietly. Casimir and I both have great auditorial senses, so I talk as quietly as I can.

"Excuse my brashness, _Padroncina_ , but did you not cause this?"

"Of course I didn't," I snap at my maid. I take a deep breath, calming myself, before continuing. "I wanted Cas to be happy for a little while, but I didn't expect him to fall so deeply in love."

"Lord Trancy is marked for death, miss. His demon will do everything possible to save him, of course, but, again, Claude Faustus is very weak."

"This is an order, Alexandra," I begin strongly, my hand flying to the hollow of my throat where my Faustian seal burns against my pulse under the cloth choker, "Protect Lord Trancy to the best of your ability. Kill anyone that threatens him. Alois Trancy is under your protection as well now, do you understand?"

" _Si, mia bella piccolo serpente_."

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Two days._

Casimir has locked himself in his study. Sylvia and Myles tried coaxing him out, but failed. Alexandra spent quite a while speaking to him from the hallway in rapid Italian, talking about how she will protect him, but Casimir won't come out. Rosy spoke to him in her broken, sad voice, but he's still locked away.

"Mistress, it is dinner time." Myles finds me in the hall, kneeling down to where I'm sitting against the study door. His face is clean and his uniform replaced with trousers and a coarse tunic.

"Tell Rosy to eat without me."

"The young master… Do you know what's wrong with him?" Myles asks in a low voice.

"He won't talk to me," I answer truthfully.

With a sigh, Myles stands, bows to me, and turns back down the hall to the stairs. I watch him go with a strange feeling of nostalgia.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _One day._

Alois Trancy dropped by at around mid morning. Now, we're taking afternoon tea in the garden gazebo. A game of chess is spread out between Alois and my brother, while I watch from between them. Cas has always been better at chess.

I watch Alois out of the corner of my eye. His eyes are shining with life and laughter. I suddenly remember what Alexandra said about him, that he was the boy that looks like an angel; it occurs to me how accurate that is. Everything about Alois Trancy is pure, untainted, at least on the outside. I know that he parallels the sin of lust, I know what happened to him when he was a child. Yet, it only creates a respect I hold for him, that even though he is wounded, he smiles.

The only other people I know that can do that are Rosanne and Casimir.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Belynneda estate carriage, July tenth, 1888, 8:46 am_

 _Today. Zero days._

"I'm worried," Casimir finally admits to me. He, Alexandra, and I all sit in the carriage on the way to the Trancy manor. Casimir is nervously spinning a dagger on the tips of his fingers while I sharpen my own blades on a small whetstone.

"You needn't be, master," Alexandra assures, "He has two skilled assassins and two immortal demons on his side. On another note, your concern for him startles me. Neither of you have ever cared for people outside of yourselves and your younger sister."

My hand falters and I nick myself. Casimir drops his knife, the tips of his ears reddening where they are visible behind thick ebony curls. Sucking on my bloodied finger, I cast my demon a loaded glare.

"Do you truly want an answer, _idiota_?" Casimir snaps. " _Io sono innamorata di lui_. Now don't question me again, _metà donna_."

"You love him?" I repeat softly, putting his knife back in his trembling hand. Cas nods. The heat has spread from his ears down to his cheeks. His jade eyes grow wet, and a fat tear leaves a glittering trail down his skin. I brush it away.

"Ah, master!" Alexandra chuckles. "You are embarrassed, I believe. No need, sex has no place in love, _mio caro_."

Without breaking eye contact with my twin, two knives are suddenly quivering next to Alexandra's head, deep in the dark wood paneling of the carriage. Her mouth snaps closed, and she keeps her head bowed respectfully for the rest of the ride.

"Don't worry," I assure softly, embracing him close to me. "He'll live, I promise."

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Trancy manor drawing room, July tenth, 1888, 10:36 pm_

The silence is unrelentingly heavy. Casimir is pacing the room, both knives clenched in his left hand. Alois is tapping his booted foot on the carpeted floor, letting out the occasional sigh of boredom. I lean back in a plush armchair, knives shining on the low table in front of me. Both of the demons have been tasked with roaming the manor, searching for intruders.

"Well, this is dull!" Alois finally exclaims, sitting bolt upright and crossing his arms over his chest.

"This is awful," I agree, balancing my knife on the tip of my finger.

Cas stops pacing and looks solemnly out the window. After a beat, he exclaims distraughtly, "I just wish they would hurry up and come so I can chop their thick skulls off their skinny necks!"

"Thank you, Sir Insane Asylum," I tease with a dead voice. Cas scoffs at me, leaning against the wall next to the window.

Before Casimir has a chance to respond, the window bursts inwards in an explosion of glittering glass shards. Casimir is sent launching backwards and is left lying facedown on the carpet, a small crimson trickle already staining the rich purple. Meanwhile, a dark, shadow-like figure tumbles through the open space, two long, vicious daggers lying flat against its forearms. Under the dark newsboy cap, I recognize a silver mask.

"Not very subtle, are you?" I growl, snatching up a knife in each hand and settling into a fighting stance. My gaze flickers to my brother, who is now sitting up, clutching a gash leaking blood and sporting a heavy nosebleed. Alois Trancy is kneeling next to him, icy gaze fixed hungrily on what could very soon be a fight.

"You're not exactly one to talk, Viper." One of those foot long gleaming blades comes arcing down towards my chest, but I throw my own defense up, toss his attack off, and rebalance quickly.

"Thus, the advantages of shadow work while young," I respond with a smirk. Three more blows come heavy and fast, sending me stumbling under his superior strength. In heeled boots, my center of balance topples and I land hard on my back straight on top of the low table. It splinters under my sudden weight and sends me careening off the side and wedged firmly under my opponent's boot.

"You are Lady Acacia Belynneda, the Queen's Viper, the twin sister of Casimir Belynneda." His boot presses hard on my chest as he kneels over me, the cold painted silver of his mask descending over my face while my chest is held in a vice. I cannot breathe.

Suddenly, the hard handle of the man's knife is raised, and soaring down towards my face. There is a brief pain, and stars flash before my vision, then everything just goes cold.

 **_-X*X-_**

Her brow is furrowed in worry. Her voice sounds like cotton. There is something pressed against my cheek.

"Mistress," she sighs, "you are awake."

"Alexandra." My tongue feels like sandpaper and my mouth tastes like metal. It hurts to open my eyes, and only the left one will open more than a squint. The world spins, before I can focus on little things; Alexandra's hair scraped back from her face, the coarseness of her pinafore, the wine magenta surrounding her catlike pupils. It takes me another moment to realize that I am propped on her lap as she kneels, and that Casimir isn't here.

"Mistress. I came as soon as possible. You fought brilliantly, _mi amore_."

"Where is Casimir? Is Alois okay?"

"My deepest apologies, _caro_ ," Alexandra says softly into my ear. "Perhaps you should see for yourself."

It takes me a moment to get to my feet and steady. My gaze, though limited, my right eye pulsating uncomfortably, travels the room.

One, Ciel Phantomhive is here, looking very unsatisfied. Sebastian is standing diligently by his side. Two, there is a figure under a white, bloodspattered sheet. Three, the room is in a mess. Four, Casimir is lying on his back, the front of his shirt streaked in blood.

A bout of dizziness hits me.

Then, his eyelids flutter, and I'm leaning over him. His eyes open, and he groans. His vision focuses on me, and let out a breath of relief.

"Caci," he murmurs drunkenly, "your eye is all swollen."

"Me?" I laugh tiredly. "Look at you."

His grip tightens around my hand where he'd laced his fingers with mine, and his gaze suddenly clears. Snapping his head up, he says, "Alois. Is Alois alright?"

I cannot find a word to tell him.

He pushes past me and to the figure on the opposite couch. For a beat, he just looks. Then, with a cry of anguish, Casimir tears the sheet off the figure and drops it to the floor.

"A- Alois?" His voice is confused and small, growing tenser with each word. "Alois? This isn't funny, Alois. Come on, open your eyes."

Nothing.

"My love," he sobs quietly, brushing a strand of platinum hair from the young boy's angelic face, "please, please open your eyes."

Nothing.

Casimir lets out another broken, anguished sob, hitches in a breath, and brushes his lips against the other boy's.

Still, there is nothing.

"Cas," I interject quietly, kneeling down next to him pulling him away from the corpse and pressing my brother to me. He turns his face into my shoulder and weeps softly, something he has not done since our parents died.

I join him, but not only for Alois. I cry because, although weak, his butler is a demon and Alois Trancy is still dead. Casimir is next on the list. Since this… I suppose it's not a person… can kill demons, he is not safe.


	10. Insanity

**Thank you to OtakuuCrazy for the favorite! I am so sorry I can't update more ;-;**

" _Don't b afraid of your fears. They're not there to scare you. They're there to let you know that something is worth it."_

 _-C. JoyBell C._

 **_-X*X-_**

The countdown has begun. Nineteen days until my brother's brutal murder. The whole manor has a certain tension about it. In just two days, my brother has grown reticent and depressed, his skin tinged with a grey pallor and his vibrantly green eyes cloudy. He doesn't leave the study, but at least allows me by his side. He spends the days staring out the window or with his head on the desk in his hands. I cannot leave him alone.

"Oh, here's an idea!" I exclaim, trying in vain to elicit a reaction from him, "Let's go outside!"

"Too hot," Cas mutters from where he lays back in his high-backed armchair with his forearm over his eyes.

"Fine then, how about a game of chess?"

"You're terrible at chess."

"Well, yes, but… Ah, never mind." I sigh, but smile at him even though he can't see me. "Come, Cas, Rosy and Alexandra are so worried about you, not to mention how crazy Sylvia and Myles are going."

"I don't care," he murmurs shortly.

"Casimir!" I exclaim, standing from my perch on the fainting couch, "How about you? You could _die_ in a few weeks. We're supposed to be doing… Something! Anything!"

He says nothing, but does lift his arm enough to look at me sideways.

"Come on, Cas. You fought for Alois, right? You fight for me and Rosy. Why can't you fight for yourself?" The anger that suddenly burned hotly inside me dissipates, leaving me shaky and cold.

There's a long, silent pause. I hold my breath while Casimir just regards me with his cloudy jade eyes. Finally, he blinks slowly, and when his lashes lift again, I can see the spark that makes his spirit, that little bit of mischievousness that creates the perfect assassin.

Well, at least he's a fighter again.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Belynneda manor west garden, July twelfth, 1888, 11:34 am_

A silken blindfold is tied around my face. I cannot see, but I can feel, hear, smell, sense, beyond common human ability. I can see but not with my vision. So I paint a picture of what's around me. Casimir's shoulder is brushing mine. Alexandra stands five running paces away. The south wall is fourteen meters away while the east wall is sixteen and the edge of the forest is five on the north side and twelve on the west. There is a tree three meters from the north forest boundary.

"Are you ready?" Alexandra asks through the summer heat.

"Yes," Casimir and I respond in unison.

"Very well. Begin."

The goal of this game is to locate Alexandra and make a mark on her. She can see, but we have the advantage of tag teaming. As a rule, she cannot use her supernatural abilities, but while she is handicapped, so are we. My left hand is bound to Casimir's right. While I have the unique ability of location, Casimir is the only one with use of his dominant hand.

There is a slight rustle of clothing, and Alexandra is gone. I open my mouth, click my tongue, and paint. She is no longer in front of us. I make a wide arc, Casimir turning with me at each tug of our bindings, until, finally, I can sense her heat signature. I tap twice on Casimir's hand. _Go._

He takes my knife from me with the hand bound to mine, and throws both. I can hear the streamlined daggers cutting through air like it is a solid mass.

"You missed, my lord," Alexandra taunts from somewhere close to the north forest boundary. We still have two knives left.

Casimir taps once with each his pointer and middle fingers on the back of my hand. Together, we break into a sprint. I feel a knife pressed into my left hand and I transfer it to my right, still while keeping count of the steps. One meter, two meters, three, past the tree. Casimir twirls me around, much like a dance, with one hand on my back to steady me. I lash out with my knife at the sound of footsteps. My attack catches cloth and powers straight through. Something heavy hits the ground hard. I dance out of the way and back behind Casimir as he lets loose another knife.

I push my blindfold up and grin. Alexandra is lying on the grass, propped on her elbows. Her pinafore is stained red from a gash trailing from her ribs to her stomach and Casimir's knife is lodged deeply in her shoulder.

"Congratulations," Alexandra says, standing and pulling the knife from her shoulder. Rolling the joint as it heals, she continues, "that may have been your best time yet. I am beginning to wonder if you still need me to protect you at all."

"Yes, well, our opponent will be attacking us right back," Cas snaps as Alexandra releases our bindings.

"And he's strong," I input quietly, referring to the night of Alois's death. Next to me, Cas tightens his lips with dissatisfaction.

"Attack me!" Casimir demands loudly, snatching his knives back from Alexandra. She hesitates, tilting her head, until Cas settles into a fighting stance, lifts his blades, and growls, "With all your strength, _sporca cagna_!"

"Such vulgar language, _piccolo maestro_." She chuckles, her exotically slanted eyes narrowing as she aims a spinning kick to Casimir's head. He slashes her leg, and her stocking pools around her ankle.

"My, how embarrassing," Alexandra chuckles again, bending to unbuckle her boot just as my brother aims a slash at her neck. Voice laden with sickly sweet sarcasm, the demoness continues, "You are aware that my clothing is paid for with your funds, master. If you wanted them off, all you had to do was ask."

"And you reprimand me for vulgar language."

Alexandra slips off her shoe before doing the same to the other. Now barefooted with only one stocking, her high heeled boots dangling in her hands, and about an inch shorter, Alexandra gathers up her ruined stocking, bows, and dismisses herself inside.

"Wait, Alexandra!" I call, jogging to catch up with her. Without stopping, she opens the back kitchen door and steps through.

"We cannot talk here, miss," she murmurs, closing the door behind her. Myles pokes his candlelike head up from a kitchen cabinet, a grin wide on his face, just before it melts and he gasps.

"Miss Alexandra!"

"Yes, what is it?"

"You-You're covered in blood!" His blue eyes widen in panic, and he drops the kitchen knife he was holding. "I'll call for a doctor!"

"Myles, I am unharmed," she sighs, already breezing past him and into the hall towards the servant quarters. I follow steadily on her heels.

"But, the blood! Miss, I really think-"

"Myles, be quiet and leave us alone," I snap at him. He stops following us and, with a short bow, disappears back into the kitchen. Alexandra reaches her quarters and leads the way inside.

"Are you certain it is wise to enter a demon's lair, miss?" Alexandra teases, throwing open her wardrobe. She removes a spare pinafore and regards me with warm brown eyes.

"Yes, yes, hilarious," I wave her off. "I've been wondering, how is it possible to kill a demon?"

"Well, my dear, there are three ways." Having removed her stocking, she begins untying her pinafore, slipping it off. "The first of these is with a special weapon called the Demon Sword. The second is with a divine weapon, such as an angel's blessed blade or with a reaper's death scythe. The last and most uncommon is with a complicated procedure called an exorcism, with involves acquisition of a holy item and the death of the thing that binds the demon to the mortal realm. Namely," she glances pointedly at me, slipping her pinafore off, "its master."

"Which of these is the most likely?" I ask, leaning against the bedchamber door.

"It depends on who the culprit is. If they are an angel, reaper, or another demon, a divine weapon would be most probable, since that Demon sword is being held in a blood-sheath, but… that's not important, miss." Alexandra grins at me charmingly, flashing her snakelike canine teeth, and unties her golden hair, which falls down to the nape of her neck in an ironically angelic way. "If the culprit were mortal, which I find very hard to believe, an exorcism would be called for, considering mortals' bodies are unaccustomed to wielding divine power."

"Say it was a divine creature," I say, watching absently as Alexandra buttons the back of her pinafore, "How do we kill it?"

"I am sorry to say, my dear, but no mere mortal can live through a fight with a being so strong."

"Fine. How do _you_ kill it?"

"I will need to direct an attack with all of my power, which is to say, revert into a hellish form, the creature I truly am." She finishes lacing her pinafore, and kneels down in front of me, taking my hand in her bare ones. Her fingers are cold, and her Faustian seal resides dead as coal on the back of her palm. Her warm brown eyes take on a compassionate tint. "Many have gone mad when they have laid eyes on a demon's true form, _mi amore_."

"Well," I smile coldly, imagining how deranged I probably look to her now, "it's quite convenient that I'd already gone mad, hm?"

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Belynneda manor second bedroom, July twelfth, 1888, 9:45 pm_

The nightmares are usually gone when Casimir is with me. I can feel him next to me; his breath ghosts across my ear, his arm is strong and warm around my back, his charcoal hair tickles my forehead. I know he's there, but I'm still scared. The worst thing about it is that I'm awake.

"Go away," I murmur into silence. But it's still standing there, looking at me. I can see it looming over Casimir's shoulder, dripping with shadows. It tilts its diamond-shaped head at me, its jaw unhinged and hanging low over a lanky chest. I realize with a start that it has the head of a snake.

"I'm not scared of you," I whisper to it, clutching my brother's collar. He stirs in his sleep. The thing's shoulders shake, and a low kind of rumbling pulsates between my ears. It takes me a moment to realize that it's laughing.

It reaches up a scaly… thing attached to its arm. This thing where it's hand should be is just a single elongated tentacle. I watch in disgust as the tentacle is slipped under the duvet. I watch as it slides over the sheets, watch the lump move right up my twin's hip, trail up his body, and curl around his neck.

"No!" I screech. The tentacle is retracted as I sit bolt upright, my dagger in my hand from where it rests on my nightstand. I make a wild slash down, down, down, that same pulsating sound vibrating in my skull, and I think someone is screaming-

"Caci!"

My hand is suddenly held in an iron grip, the knife nudged away and dropped to the mattress. Fingers are laced with mine, squeezing, and I can't see through the tears - _why am I crying?_ \- but there's something, a vibrant, virulent green - _that's ironic_ \- and warmth.

"It was going to kill you! It's going to kill someone! We have to find it, Cas-!" My words are broken, but he understands.

"There's no one, Caci. It was a dream." He presses butterfly soft kisses to my cheek, my forehead, my nose, my chin, his warmth wrapped around me, better than any blanket in the whole wide world. "What did you see?"

"It was a demon, straight from hell," I murmur, "it's still here. Turn around." My eyes lock on it, the silvery diamond head tilting and jaw stretching in what very well could be a grin.

Cas turns, before meeting my eyes again and nodding slightly, whispering, "I see it, Caci. Go back to sleep. It can't hurt you if you're not scared of it."

"I'm not scared," I mutter indignantly as he lowers me back onto the pillows.

"That's the spirit," Cas chuckles lightly.

I lay my head down, but get the strange feeling that I won't be seeing the last of this thing.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Belynneda manor study, July fifteenth, 1888, 2:34 pm_

 _Sixteen days_.

The demon, the one not contracted to me, is lurking in the shadows that gather around the corners. Blood webs between its razor teeth, mingling with the venom that drips down its unhinged jaw and thin chest.

"Master, mistress, you seem preoccupied," Alexandra states with a smile, placing a cup of tea in my hand.

"We're wondering who's blood that is." Casimir points to the thing in the corner, and it does that weird, fake laugh again. "Is everyone in the manor accounted for?"

"Yes, sir," she hands him a teacup, "but I see no blood, my lord."

"Right there. On its extra arms."

"Extra arms?" I ask, gazing curiously at it.

"Yes. Extra arms," Casimir regards me with interest. "It looks much like a spider."

"No it doesn't. It looks like a snake," I inform. The demon flicks its tongue at me, dragging the congealed blood and venom over what would be its lips in a dark smear. I scowl at it.

"Demons?" Alexandra questions, concern lacing her voice. "A spider demon and a snake demon, you say?"

We both nod.

"If I knew no better, it seems as if both of you are plagued by insanity." Alexandra clicks her tongue. "As I cannot seem them, we'll have to assume they are not real."

"Well, clearly," I scoff, taking an aggravated sip of my tea. "But perhaps the hallucinations could be some kind of warning or threat?"

The thing chuckles at me condescendingly. I raise an eyebrow at it and laugh, "Well, demon, am I right?" It only licks itself again with its sickly magenta tongue, smearing its jaws with a thick layer of thin venom and semi-dried blood.

"Perhaps, miss," Alexandra answers, "but there is no way to tell."

I wave her off, stating, "No, no, I was talking to _it_."

"Stop laughing!" Casimir demands of whatever he's seeing. I cross my arms, still staring at it as it flaps it's weird tentacles and sends droplets of fluid splattering across the walls.

"Ugh, gross," I sneer, "Alexandra, clean that up."

"Clean.. What up, _mio caro_?" Her gaze flickers to where I'm gesturing at the wildly flapping creature. "There is nothing there, mistress."

"Fine!" I say loudly, throwing my hands up and bolting off the chair, "I don't care what you do, just make it go away! That's an order!"

"Acacia…" Casimir calls, slowly, as if warning me, "it reacts to fear, remember?"

"I'm not scared of it," I growl, but my voice wobbles in my throat. I _am_ scared, terrified, of this nightmare that leaked into reality.

The demon's bloodstained mouth widens in its grin, and a trickle of blood leaks from between its teeth. It walks, no, slithers, out of the corner and straight past me, reaching out long appendages. My hand creeps into my boot where my knives are hidden against my leg as it drags a tentacle across Alexandra's forehead. Yet another dark crimson smear is left across her skin and it continues past her, straight to Casimir's desk.

"Alexandra!" I call warningly, my voice trembling, as its tentacle wraps around a strand of her golden hair, smearing it all a sickly orange.

"Miss, what is it?"

"No, Alexandra, don't let it touch you!" I cry. The demon continues walking, still with Alexandra's head in its grip. Alexandra's head is tilted backwards, so far back that a rift opens in her skin. It widens like a macabre smile, painting her flesh in red, until her head is ripped clean from her body.

The demon turns to me, and it grins.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Eleven days_.

Myles and Sylvia are convinced that the screams they heard from the study five days ago were caused by fever-induced paranoia. They say the screams that come from my bed chambers at night are nightmares from my time in the madhouse. They say I'm sick.

They're only partially correct.

I _know_. Through a red haze of terror, of bouts of ice cold, blood burning insanity, I know what's happening. I've been reduced to cowering under my duvet, trying to ignore the monsters that loom over my bed. The snake is there, as is a crow-like one with elongated legs, a beak like a razor, and sharp, hellfire eyes. There's one with eight crooked legs protruding from its shoulder blades as if it is a large walking tree viewed through a cracked window. There is one with the snout of a dog with rabid drips of foamy liquid spilling over its jaws. There is one with the whiskers, ears, and teeth of a rat, it's naked tail scarred and scabbed. They are the very residents of hell, and of my own mind.

"Alexandra!" I call out weakly from under my covers as I watch the shapes looming over me, their cacophony of sounds echoing in my head and down my spine.

Immediately, the door is pushed open and closed again. I risk a peek out, and this time, instead of seeing Lucifer's demons, I see mine. My contract seal flushes a comforting heat against my quickened pulse.

"Yes, mistress?"

"N- Nothing. Never mind. They're gone now, Alexandra," I murmur weakly into my pillow.

"Shall I leave, _mio caro_?"

"No!" I call out, reeling at the very thought. Heat rushes into my face, and I curl into a ball. "Stay with me."

The bed sinks at the edge where my maid seats herself. I look at her from under my lashes. Her pinafore is gone, leaving only the ankle-length lavender gown. Her hair, usually combed tightly back from her face, with fluffy golden bangs hanging curled over one warm cinnamon eye, is now loose around her shoulders.

It occurs to me how angelic she looks. Yes, Alexandra Divolo, a demon torn straight from hell who will one day consume my soul, is sitting here on my bed, stroking my hair. My demon has, in this moment, become my angel.

" _Mia anima dolce, quello che fa paura?"_ Her question is simple, as is its answer.

"I am frightened of the demons," I respond blandly.

" _Eppure, è cercare conforto tra le braccia di la cosa che ti spaventa_." I blow a dissatisfied breath through my mouth, and she chuckles.

"Of course," I scoff, flipping over so my back is to her. "Why should I consider you a demon at all? You have ever only shown me kindness and compassion. You have taught me to defend myself. What reason could I possibly be scared of you for?"

"Perhaps, _mio caro_ , because you do see me in your nightmares. Perhaps because every time I must defend you, you see a demon instead of a maid." She leans close to me, over my shoulder, and her soft lips are pressing against my cheek. She whispers, "Come hell or high water, miss, I will protect you. Demons choose who they are contracted to, and you were no mere mistake. I chose to be your demon, and there is nothing that can make me regret my decision."

"Sap," I tease, unable to find words to respond to what quite possibly may have been a declaration.

Nevertheless, Alexandra's hands soon disappear from around my waist, and her warmth from my sheets. I don't call her back.

But the demons, for the first time since I took to my bed, don't come out from behind their shadow cloaks again.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Belynneda manor first drawing room, July eighteenth, 1888, 1:17 pm_

 _Fourteen days._

"I heard you were recently bedridden, Lady Belynneda, how awful," the Chinese man remarks over the pool table.

Casimir and I were holding our first conference since the death of Earl Trancy when Lau and his escort Ran Mao burst in in the most grandiose way possible, practically demanding alcohol and a game of billiards.

"Nothing serious, Lau, just a particular bout of fever. Brought up some painful memories and all," I lie through my teeth, grinning from where I sit on the shiny edge of the game table. Casimir has his hand wrapped around mine, his other grip firm on the pool stick. Ciel knocks a ball into a hole and glances at me.

"Well, Earl Phantomhive, how is that case coming along then?" Lau changes the subject.

"H-How do you know about it!" Ciel demands, aghast.

"Ah, so you are working on it. And what about you, Lord Casimir, scared that you're next?"

"'Course not," Cas chuckles lazily whacking a ball with his stick and sending it flying across the room. Ran Mao ducks as it soars over her head and blinks innocently at Casimir, who apologizes half heartedly and scurries to retrieve it and drop it in a hole.

"And whyever not?"

"The Belynneda manor has incredible protections about it. Sylvia was a street fighter, you know, and Myles is something of a genius. Alexandra is much more than she appears. Even Acacia and I have tricks up our sleeves." As if to punctuate this, he produces his knife and palms it in his hand, flicking it between his fingers. "We have Ciel and his team on our side, don't we?" I catch Ciel's eye and wink at him. He just closes his eye and sighs softly.

"Well then, Ciel," I say tauntingly, "I think some kind of conference is in order, extra guests or not."

"Oh, talking about the case now are you? We'd love to hear that, wouldn't we, Ran Mao?" The escort nods silently, turning huge amber eyes between the three of us.

"What, no-!" Ciel begins, but Casimir cuts him off.

"Now, Lord Phantomhive, you would really let such people get in the way of your investigations, would you?" A smirk lights my brother's face, and I hold in a laugh.

"Anyway," I prompt after the tension releases, "what's bothering me is, well, Lord Trancy's butler was strong, so who could have gotten past him?"

"You may be asking the wrong question, Lady Belynneda," Ciel interjects, fiddling with the end of his pool cue. "Perhaps it's not whom, but what."

"Right!" I exclaim excitedly. "Alexandra told me all about how, erm," I glance once at Lau, who is smiling creepily, " _foreign policies_ like that work. There's an, er, _rite_ that involves killing off the master, I think. At least, that's the only way an average Englishman could have pulled something like this off."

Casimir's breath hitches every time I make vague references to Lord Trancy's death. If I weren't insane, I'd have sworn that even Ciel casts him the occasional concerned glance.

"Tell me about this rite," Ciel presses.

"Alexandra can later at dinner." I lean forward slightly, inquiring, "You will be staying, Lord Phantomhive?"

"I don't see why not."

"Wonderful!" Casimir perks up again and claps his gloved hands together. "I'm certain you and Sebastian know a little bit about these _foreign policies_ , don't you? I can't wait to hear what you have to offer. I'll go tell Myles and Alexandra to start dinner!"

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Excerpt from the diary of Lady Acacia Megaera Belynneda, found in a steel box among the wreckage of a manor destroyed in a fire._

July 18, 1888

The nightmares have returned. I remember reading once that the mind cannot create a completely original face, so I wonder where my own subconscious could possibly have gotten inspiration to create such hideous monsters. Well, I suppose that is the definition of insane, isn't it; to be separate from everything else in such a sense that even your own mind cannot decide what is reality or not.

I've decided that insanity is a true blessing. Although, like every blessing, it does come with a curse.

 **ITALIAN!**

 _ **Mia dolce anima, quello che fa paura?**_ **\- My sweet soul, what do you fear?**

 _ **Eppure, e cercare comforto tra la braccia di la cosa cha ti spaventa.**_ **\- And yet, you seek comfort in the arms of the thing that scares you.**

 _ **Mio caro**_ **\- My dearest**

 **Please reviewwww!**


	11. Dying

**Oh wow I'm actually posting again. Thanks to jesusaj8 for the favorite and follow! Much love!**

" _In reality, it si [SIC] more fruitful to wound than to kill. While the dead man lies still, counting only one man less, the wounded man is a progressive drain upon his side."_

 _-B. h. Liddell Hart_

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Belynneda manor master study, July 19, 1888, 3:46 pm_

Casimir and I sit in silence. He is leaning back in his chair, a book lying open on his face while I lay back on his study desk, drumming my heels lightly into the wood paneling. The only sound is the shouting of the servants downstairs, or rather, Alexandra telling Sylvia off for something that involves potted plants and a fresh chocolate pie and the drumming of rain on the large bay windows lining the walls.

"What are we supposed to do on a rainy summer day?" I ask with a sigh. Casimir lifts one side of the book to look at me blearily.

"You say something, Caci?"

"I'm bored," I summarize. Casimir makes a small sound of agreement in the back of his throat.

"We could spar," he suggests lazily.

"No, I still hurt all over," I complain, rubbing a particular spot on my shoulder that actually needed bandaging from Casimir's wayward attack.

"Sorry, by the way." He tosses his book down on the desk and casts me a vicious, smirky grin; his assassin's smile. "Anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Find something for us to do," I suggest, propping myself up on my elbow and meeting his eyes, "that doesn't involve killing anyone for now."

"Fine then." He pushes himself off his chair, and strides around he desk until he's facing me, then and bows in his silly, sweeping way and glances at me from under his lashes. He holds one black gloved hand out and murmurs, "May I have this dance, _per sempre amico_ Lady Acacia?"

"There's no music," I laugh, taking his hand anyway and allowing him to tug me up and into his loose embrace. His hand travels automatically to my back and mine around his neck. He squeezes my other hand with the one holding it.

"Of course there is," Casimir states simply, twirling us around and flitting us across the study floor.

"Where? I don't hear it."

"Yes you do." I half expect him to start humming Fur Elise or something, but he doesn't. Yet, I smile, because there is music; music permeates the very air, hanging in between the distance between us, humming under my skin, drumming on the windowpanes along with the rain. I let out a laugh, and Casimir does too, and there's more music in the sound of his voice.

"We've gone crazy, Casimir, isn't it absolutely wonderful?" I exclaim with a giggle as he pulls me closer and twirls me quickly in his arms.

"That it is, love," he agrees. "Most of the time."

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Four days._

I believe it was Alexandra that hired Sylvia. Why, I have no clue. We know now, and it took a year to figure it out.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Three days._

Alexandra told us that we can't kill her yet. We have to wait until she moves first.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _One day_.

Sylvia is going to die tomorrow. Maybe it will be my brother. Either way, blood will be spilled. I cannot wait.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Zero days._

 _Belynneda manor master bedroom, July 23, 1888, 3:46 am_

Alexandra awoke us at midnight, more than three hours ago. Now, Casimir and I sit side by side on his bed. I believe my hands are shaking; I have never been this terrified. Not in the madhouse, not during the fire, not even when I saw the demons in my chambers.

Alexandra has left, but Myles is awake. The cook is armed with nothing more than a slingshot and a vague description about what we think is going to happen. Alexandra stalks the manor's halls. Occasionally, she checks back in with us.

"Master, mistress, how do you fare?" She asks routinely, swinging the door wider on its hinges. "You are frightened, mistress." She cocks her head thoughtfully, her tongue wetting her lips briefly, and she continues, "But you are not, master. Do you not fear death?"

"Don't be an idiot, Alexandra, of course I don't," Casimir snaps.

"Whoever not? I was under the impression that all humans cowed in Death's face. Come to think of it, when you contracted me, mistress, did you fear me?"

"Neither of us fear death, Alexandra," I say calmly. "Death only has one thing to frighten us with. Life is much more terrifying."

"I understand," she says after a pause, her lips lifting in a small, wistful smile. "This is why you so dearly desired to become assassins, no? You sought not to protect yourselves from early death, but instead from life. I am correct?"

"You're just now realizing?" Cas chuckles. His jade eyes flash in the candlelight. "Since the madhouse, nothing but insanity. Tragic, isn't it?"

"I admit, even I am touched." She smiles wider, this time stretching her lips so the ivory tips of elongated canine teeth are visible on her bottom lip. Those teeth make me start with surprise, and my hand falters spinning my knife around habitually. My dagger clatters to the carpet in a muffled _chink!_

"Alexandra, go make certain everything is in order," I demand.

"Miss, I have checked a dozen times. There is nothing to do but wait."

"Then be back in thirty seconds," I insist, waving her off with my blade, "Go on."

She curtsies shallowly, dips her head, and closes the door. I close my eyes and count.

 _One_. The door clicks shut.

 _Five_. I can no longer hear her footsteps.

 _Ten_. Casimir has stopped moving as well. There is commotion downstairs.

 _Twelve_. Something shatters loudly.

 _Twenty_. Rosanne's bedroom door opens, and she calls out sleepily into the hallway, "Is everything okay?"

 _Twenty-three_. Heavy footsteps dash down the hallway. I can practically hear gasps for air and blood pounding in a heart.

 _Twenty-six_. A wet squelch. Rosanne lets out a shrill scream. A door slams. I can hear something dripping.

 _Twenty-eight_. Muffled speech.

 _Thirty._ The door opens and slams shut. I open my eyes once more. Alexandra is leaning heavily on the wood. The hem of her pinafore is speckled with crimson and her eyes pulsate a hellish magenta.

"Is Rosanne safe?" Casimir demands, jumping to his feet and gathering both of his knives in his left hand.

"She and Myles have barricaded her bedroom door. Myles is severely wounded; I believe he is going to die. Mistress Rosanne is safe for now."

"And Sylvia?" I prompt.

"She is on her way. Master, mistress, she is very-" Alexandra ends in a surprised gasp as a heavy thud breaks the metal lock inside the door. The demoness readjusts her hold on what is now nothing more than a weak wall as a dozen equally heavy blows rattle the wood in its jamb.

"She is very, very strong. Stronger by far than myself," Alexandra manages. "I am not certain that I have the ability to defeat her, even in my true form. When-" the door buckles and splinters, and Alexandra squeezes her fiery eyes closed. She is frightened. "When I ask, I will need you to close your eyes."

"Alright," Casimir agrees quickly. "Alexandra, why are you-"

"Master, I promise I will answer your question after the angel is defeated, but for now, please hide yourself!" The door splinters further, practically cracking in half. At this, Casimir sensibly tucks himself against the floor and rolls neatly under his bed. A desperate hiding place, but perhaps the best for now.

"Go, _Padroncina_!" Alexandra demands, her thin brows creased over her exotically slanted eyes. Her body lurches with each pound on the destroyed door. "Please, hide!"

"I will fight with you, Alexandra," I state calmly, my voice raised over what has quickly grown to a din.

"I will not be able to protect you," she warns. It sounds less like a warning than blatant concern. _I cannot disobey you, but I desperately wish I could_.

"I will fight for my brother," I insist, my voice about an octave higher than normal. I'm scared. I do not want to die here, but I am even more terrified for my brother's life.

Just as I steel myself, Alexandra gives way, and the door collapses inward. My demon stumbles a step, stopping just in front of me. Around her, I see Sylvia.

The maid is covered in Myles's blood. Her rapier, a great, elegant, silver weapon about as tall as her torso, webs thick, dark blood down its length. Her apron and underdress have been discarded for a silken ivory gown and her long silver hair is swept up in an elegant bun. She smiles, but it bares no resemblance to an angel.

"I do not wish to kill you, Miss Acacia." The loyal, fierce Sylvia I knew is replaced with a singsong, elegant warrior woman. Her voice sounds like happiness and her now-violet eyes shine with warmth. "You are much milder than Casimir. Please, stand aside and you may live."

I almost do. I even take a step backwards, but Alexandra pins me with her fiery gaze, and I remember myself.

"There is no living without Casimir," I spit at her. "I have no intention of standing aside." Here, I bare my daggers, curved outward against my forearms, and settle back onto the balls of my feet.

"I have killed five demons and their masters. Do you believe you are any different? I only care for the master of these disgusting creatures." Her brows draw together and her upper lip wrinkles in disgust. "If you come to my side, I will redeem you for your brother's sins. Please, Miss Acacia," she extends her free hand toward me, "come to me."

"Wait, wait," I almost giggle, lowering my stance. "You think Casimir contracted Alexandra?"

"Indeed. He is marked-" Sylvia cuts herself off, her lavender eyes narrowing. "In fact, you are both marked."

"Wow, finally caught up, are you?" I snicker. "When I contracted Alexandra, the terms were that she was to serve me, protect me and my remaining family, and teach us both to protect ourselves. When we turn sixteen, she gets both of our souls."

"Ah, I see I must kill you both now." Her lips curl back up into a fierce smile and she raises her rapier.

"You can certainly try," I challenge, bringing my daggers into a defensive guard.

"If it is a fight you seek, then you have found nothing less." Her rapier descends like a streak of lightning straight toward my face. It takes all my concentration to stumble out of the way.

"You are nothing more than a tottering child!" Sylvia exclaims, the point of her blade making its round, this time toward my chest. I bring a knife upwards to parry, but her unnatural strength knocks my blade straight from my grip. My wrist twists painfully and a gasp is torn from my lungs.

"Alexandra!" I call.

"I am here, mistress." In a blur of lavender and white, my demon throws herself where I stood. I scramble backwards until my back knocks against the bed frame.

A battle between two supernatural beings - my mortal eyes cannot follow either's movements. They fight with a style that reminds me of a dogfight; in and out, slashing, circling one another, slashing, and back out again. Until that is, the pattern is broken, and Alexandra is sent crashing bodily into a wall. However, she recovers immediately and is back on her feet. For a moment, I survey her; her pinafore is tattered, one of her eyes is half closed, and her pale skin is smattered with blood.

"Mistress, please close your eyes and count to ten."

I bury my face in my hands, and begin counting for the second time today.

"One!" Alexandra chuckles lowly, dangerously.

"Two!" There is a heavy, heated swirl of air, and Alexandra's even footsteps morph into smooth, silent glides.

"Three!" Fear fills me to my core, and there is a chuckle, this time with the crackle of fire and tortured screams all interwoven with a thick Italian accent.

"Four!" I want to look.

"Five!" A low gasp, obviously not Alexandra. Something shatters very close to me. I throw myself onto the carpet.

"Six!" I want to look.

"Seven!" There is a moan, low and pained, and the sounds chase one another away. To where, I have no clue.

"Eight!" I want to look.

"Nine!" I really want to look.

"Ten!" I lift my head, only to find an empty room. The window is nothing more than a hollow frame, the thin drapes fluttering in a warm breeze. I dash over to it, just as Casimir lifts his head from under the bed. The walls are splattered with macabre patterns, scarlet dripping down the corners and flats planes like spider webs.

As I watch, a dark figure dashes across the night and vaults up to the roof. I step back to Casimir as it swings down into the room, rolls gracefully across the floor, lies flat on the carpet, and doesn't get up.

"Alexandra?" I ask tentatively.

"Yes. Yes, I am alive." Her voice is weak, her features blurred, as if she's nothing more than a ghost laying on Casimir's bedroom floor. She pushes herself onto her elbows, her form snapping into focus, and she flashes me a weary smile.

"I am glad to see you fare well."

"Sylvia?" Casimir practically whispers.

"The angel is dealt with, master," Alexandra pants. I notice now that she is obviously wounded, but with no visible markings. Still, she pushes herself to her feet, curtsies weakly, and says, "I shall go inform Miss Rosanne."

"Alexandra!" Casimir calls. "What is it you need?"

"I do not understand your question, _mi caro_. I require nothing."

"To heal," he specifies. "What will make you better?"

"For now, only time." She turns back towards the door, wincing, and adds, "and perhaps sustenance. But I will not break the contract, so all I will need is time."

"Myles," I suggest. "He is already dying. Take his soul, Alexandra, that's an order."

Without a word, Alexandra limps from the room, past my bedroom door, and knocks on Rosanne's. There is a timid squeak of surprise, and my little sister calls out, "Who- Who is it?"

"It is only I, mistress."

The door cracks, first slowly, and then it is flung wide. Rosanne grabs Alexandra's hand, and Casimir and I follow the pair into Rosanne's bedroom.

Myles is lying sprawled on her bed. Blood is already soaking the bedsheets. He has taken two stab wounds, one in his shoulder and one in his abdomen. His breaths are ragged, shallow, and weak, and his eyelids flutter open when we enter, glassy and unseeing. He raises his unloaded slingshot, a feeble warning.

"Relax, Myles, it is all safe now," Alexandra assures, moving to the side of Rosanne's bed and laying a comforting hand on Myles's brow. His lips move like a fish gasping for air and his skin is already waxen. Alexandra smiles softly. "You are ready to die?"

"Sy- Sylvia… Attack…," Myles pants, gasping. Alexandra nods.

"Do not fear. It is all safe now." She cocks her head to the side, and asks, "You are smart. You have figured out what I am?"

He nods weakly, head lolling. Myles is going to die. Alexandra smiles softly yet again. "And you are ready to die, knowing all is safe?"

Myles nods again. Alexandra asks, "Is there anything you wish to say?" The young man nods again, and Alexandra leans close. He manages to whisper something in her ear, and when she pulls away, she says, "Yes, you can certainly trust me. I will not tell a soul, you have my word. Goodbye, Myles. I certainly hope I will not see you in my realm."

She leans over his face, and the rest is shielded from my eyes by her body.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _To her Majesty, Queen Victoria of England:_

 _My thanks, your Majesty, for the chance to win our lives. You will be pleased to know that Ciel Phantomhive, my sister, and I have indeed apprehended the criminals responsible for the killings._

 _As our home was being attacked, we discovered that the perpetrators were none other than Sylvia Winge and William Chesnut, our own servants. Of course, this shocked us as much as anything. I assure you, we had no affiliation with the killings._

 _I do hope to hear from you soon regarding these matters._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Earl Casimir Alecto Belynneda_

 **_-X*X-_**

 _To Earl Ciel Phantomhive, Head of Phantomhive house:_

 _Last night, our home was attacked. My sister as well as myself were targeted. Alexandra is wounded and our cook, Myles, is dead. Our house was severely damaged in the battle, and we have no strength to care for ourselves._

 _In desperation, I request temporary lodgings under your care. Though I am reluctant to beg, I am afraid my sisters and myself are both vulnerable and weakened after such activities that has left a strong man dead and an immortal injured. I hope you have kindness enough to assist us. I assure you, it will be not be long before Alexandra is restored to her full strength (she can hardly stand as it is) and we will return home._

 _However, the criminals regarding the Sins killings have been dealt with. As it so happens, our own servants were plotting against us. There is more information, though I cannot state it in a letter._

 _Always,_

 _Earl Casimir Alecto Belynneda_


	12. Keeping

**IT'S EXAM TIME SOON AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS - I'm going to be posting more than usual because I'm a little fiery spirit with my own goals and I can do what I god damn want.**

 **This is possibly the shortest chapter. And fear not (or, actually, fear, if you hate my story) for it is not over! I've decided to put Acacia, Casimir, and Alexandra in the same situations as Ciel because I can do that and that's what fanfiction is for. So, yeah.**

 **Enjoy.**

 _Belynneda manor front lawn, July 28, 1888, 8:34 pm_

"I have been reduced to mortality," Alexandra hisses, much like a snake. She had tried to stand and go about her normal duties, but, of course, she has no strength left. "It is like prison. How do you stand such powerlessness, mistress?"

"You can't miss what you've never known, I suppose," I say, twiddling my knife in my fingers.

We have taken to camping outside. Apparently, Alexandra has dubbed the house unsafe and structurally unsound, and since she is in no state fit for travel, we cannot go anywhere. Food is turning out to be a problem; the pantry is inaccessible, the gardens are ruined from debris, and Casimir and I have proven ourselves terrible hunters. Animals are much harder to catch than people are.

"I wonder when the master is willing to stop his fruitless hunting attempts," Alexandra ponders as Casimir stalks toward us. The sun is setting over the trees and my brother's gait is tired. He plops down next to me on the grass.

Autumn is on the way. I can feel it in the air. The trees around us have not yet started shedding, but the nights are much colder. I am gladder and gladder each night for Casimir's warmth beside me.

"I'm so hungry!" Rosanne complains, picking at the grass. She has her prosthetic arm close by, but never wears it any more.

"I'm sorry, Rosy. Hunting is hard," Casimir sighs disdainfully. Alexandra casts us concerned looks.

"Mistress, you should take your sister and go to an inn. I will protect what is left of the manor," she whispers to me. I ignore her request.

"Something has been bothering me, Alexandra," I murmur quietly, "In Casimir's bedroom, when Sylvia was attacking, you looked so frightened. Why? Were you scared for your own life?"

"Of course not, _mi amore_ ," she answers in just as quiet a voice. "I was frightened that the angel would take your life."

"Life?" Casimir prompts. "Or soul?"

"Both, I suppose," Alexandra answers with a small smile.

 **_-X*X-_**

Early that morning, while Alexandra is sleeping (she sleeps a lot nowadays) a carriage rattles up the drive. Sebastian slips off the coachman's bench and opens the door for Ciel, who steps out and immediately has a look of disgust written across his features.

"Oh, I remember you!" Rosy exclaims, jumping up with all the enthusiasm of her normal self and running to stand in front of Ciel. "You're the boy with the eyepatch, Lord Phantomhive."

"Oh my…" Sebastian inputs, chocolate eyes resting on Alexandra's still form. "She has taken to sleeping?"

Rosy makes a little "Hm?" sound and Casimir just nods his head.

"Beings of her kind do not require sleep. We use it as luxury, entertainment, or, in cases of extremity, escape from pain."

I hiss through my teeth, mostly of sympathy. Casimir flinches.

"Wait, Italians don't need sleep?" Rosy pipes up. At this, Ciel presses his lips together. I would find it funny, if not for my deep concern for Alexandra.

"Well, what will make her better?" Casimir prompts. Ciel's butler moves to kneel over Alexandra.

"I am not certain, Lord Belynneda." The conscious demon turns to look at my brother. "What binds a being of her kind to this plane of existence is the marking you possess, my lady, but there are certain… limitations on otherworldly beings attached to a mortal realm. For example, they are threatened by divine creatures. In this case, it is most likely that the creature she was fighting drained her life force, probably to survive herself."

"Wait, so, Sylvia is still alive?" Casimir asks, aghast.

"There is no way to tell, I'm afraid," Sebastian sighs.

"Why in the world do demons have life forces?" I question. "I thought they were immortal."

"Indeed, in a mortal realm. However, when confronted with a divine being with either a stronger connection to the immortal realm or a more powerful binding to the mortal realm, any immortal creature is threatened."

"How do we fix her?" Casimir asks, his brows drawing together with dissatisfaction.

"As the life force of a divine creature fades, so does its connection to the mortal plane. Lady Belynneda, your bond to Miss Divolo will have to be strengthened." With this, Sebastian kneels down and scoops Alexandra off the ground bridal style. She lolls in his arms, much like a corpse, and I find myself wondering if she's still alive at all.

"Well, how do I do that?" I ask Sebastian as Casimir and I trot behind him. He sets Alexandra on the carriage seat through the still-open door, Ciel, Rosy, Casimir and I crawling in after her while Sebastian remains in the doorway. I look at him expectantly.

"For each contract, it is different. I cannot say." He presses a gloved hand over his sternum, smiles, and adds, "Perhaps you should start at her sin." That said, he closes the carriage door. Afew moments later, the carriage lurches into motion.

"Thank you for coming to get us, Lord Phantomhive," Casimir murmurs weakly into the silence.

"Well, you did solve my murder for me," he responds, almost as if apprehensive about admitting that we won.

"Um, excuse me?" Rosy pipes up, leaning forward so she can be seen. "What was that man talking about?"

"It's nothing, Rosy," Cas assures, taking her hand and squeezing it in his. "Alexandra will be fine. She'll be okay."

But it only sounds as though he's trying to convince himself.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Phantomhive manor guest bedroom, August 2, 1888, 7:09 pm_

I have noticed a change. Every day since Ciel let us stay with him, the contract seal on the hollow of my throat is fading, becoming fuzzier or smaller or blending closely with the color of my skin. Tonight, I trace my fingers over it as I notice its sudden poison scarlet color in place of muted vermillion.

Alexandra is fading. Sure, she is nothing but a demon here to consume my soul, but I cannot help feeling apprehensive toward the thought of standing by and letting her fade away. She has protected me, even given me the title of Viper, the feared assassin; she is the reason Casimir and I are the infamous Belynneda twins, the sneaky, smarmy, cunning, insane children that _should_ be in chains but aren't.

But she's getting better. Sometimes, I catch Sebastian entering or exiting her room. He stays there for long periods of time. Once, when I pressed my ear to the door, I only heard a single muffled sentence before Sebastian unlocked it and asked me if I needed anything. But still, Alexandra does not leave and still I have not seen her since Sebastian took up the job of nursing her back to health.

I have been thinking of what Sebastian told me about demons' health. He said to think of her sin. So I have thought; Alexandra is a demon of wrath, so perhaps she needs a soul that aligns with wrath. Or something. I have no clue. Exasperated, I sit down on my bed. _If only I could ask her what she needed…!_

Oh. I can.

I hastily wrap my choker around my neck, snatch up the crystal candlestick holder on the nightstand, and unlock the door. Even though I have no reason to feel guilty, I still look both ways down the dark hall as far as I can before closing the door behind me. My footsteps are silent as I walk with the tread Alexandra taught us.

I reach her door and rap lightly with my knuckles. There is a soft call for entrance, so I let myself in. Alexandra is sitting upright on the bed, although leaning on the bedpost. Her hair is down and her pinafore is folded over the nightstand. She smiles softly at me.

"I did not realize you were such a caring person, miss," she teases quietly.

"Yes, well, I don't make a habit of leaving those in my care to die." I take a step closer, set my candlestick down on the nightstand, and continue, "Alexandra, Sebastian told me that I needed to do something related to your sin to make you better. What does that mean?"

"Mister Michaelis did not mean simply wrath, _mi amore_. He meant, I believe, the act that transformed me to a demon." I open my mouth to ask what she means, but she is answering my question before I can ask. "There are two ways a mortal may become a demon. The first is to steal his soul while he is living and refuse to contain it. The second is to cultivate a stain, a sin, so deep in their soul that when they die, the soul is so heavy is descends directly to Hell."

"What about you?" I murmur, sitting myself next to her on her bed.

"I was killed as an act of wrath, my dear, wrath birthed of love."

"How?" I am practically whispering now, so awed by the very prospect of hearing Alexandra's story.

"In Italy, when I was mortal, I was recruited by an assassination cult that called themselves _L'artiglio Cinereo di Italia_. Ah, _mio caro_ , we were feared. I was taught to correct our ruling bloodline. One night, however, not a year into a new rule, I was sent to a party hosted by the new king. _Padroncina_ , he was a lovely man, and he could have had any woman in the country fall at his feet. I was sent to kill him, miss, but I could not. I could not kill him." Alexandra's face falls, and a sudden sadness ghosts over her features. It is gone in an instant, and she continues, "Yet, he convinced me to marry him, so marry him I did. Miss, I was a queen. I bore him children, a son and a daughter. But I noticed jealousy. He would throw elaborate parties, and noblewomen would fall over him. I grew jealous, so I spilled blood. The stain on my soul grew and grew until my very heart felt heavy in my chest.

"One night, while asleep in our beds, my family and myself were murdered. To this day, I still do not know who drove a knife through my chest." That sadness is back.

I don't know what I'm supposed to tell her. I'm not used to making Alexandra feel better. In fact, I've only ever comforted Casimir and Rosy; I am clueless here. So, I do what I was taught to do when cornered - I leave.

Once back in my room, the door firmly locked, I hastily unwrap my choker and examine my marking. Against all odds, it is looking fuller than usual.

 **I know, I know, it's dumb… I just really love the idea of Yandere Alexandra, so… Oh, and if anyone was wondering, Alexandra's son and daughter were twins as well and that's why she's so fond of Acacia and Casimir.**

 **Please review! I really, really need a support.**

 _ **L'artiglio Cinereo di Italia -**_ **The Gray Claw of Italy**


	13. Cruising

**Well, I found the manga online and finally started reading it and then I just fell in love with this arc, and the next one… yeah. Send help.**

 **This chapter's dedications go to AncientGlory for the whole package: a review, two follows, and two favorites! I couldn't be happier for people like you, AncientGlory. Thanks as well to the _fairytastic_ WriterFairy for keeping up with me for so long! I hope you like the rest of this story. **

**Enjoy!**

 _Southampton dockyard, April 17, 1889, 10:46 am_

After our home was repaired and Alexandra healed, we kept in touch with the Phantomhive earl, however we have not seen him since. We heard he had gone undercover at a circus and had hosted a mysterious, murderous dinner party right out of his own home last month.

Our thirteenth birthday is in two days. Rosy, always having been one to take full advantage of any party-worthy occasion, happened upon a discarded newspaper advertising the maiden voyage of a cruise ship called the _Campania_.

However a fascinating idea it may be, Casimir and I were completely against it.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Earl Casimir Alecto Belynneda and Lady Acacia Megaera Belynneda:_

 _I truly regret to ask you for such a daunting favor without having met you in person, but I have heard the most exciting rumors about you as the infamous Cobra and Viper assassins. Of course, I have plenty of money, so any price you demand for the job will be paid._

 _My name is Doctor Rian Stoker. I am the director of Karnstein Hospital and a group known as the Aurora Society. Recently, we have had a break in at the hospital, a young man posing as a doctor. He escaped with an unknown amount of knowledge that could very well be extremely dangerous if left to public eyes._

 _So far, I believe he and whomever he could be working for are going to infiltrate an Aurora Society meeting aboard the luxury cruise liner_ Campania _on April the nineteenth. Money for a first class cabin and a boarding ticket are enclosed, as well as information regarding induction into the Aurora Society. Of course, I trust you to be discreet with whatever you may hear once inside the meeting._

 _As for your assignment, I would like you to track down and kill this infiltrator. When you have finished, you may contact me. I would like possession of the corpse afterward. Payment will be discussed when the job is complete._

 _Doctor Rian Stoker_

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Doctor Rian Stoker:_

 _Thank you for the job offer. We will certainly accept. At the meeting of your Aurora Society, you may recognize us by our serpent pendants. Afterward, you may collect the corpse in the ship's secondary cargo hold._

 _Earl Casimir Alecto Belynneda, Head of Belynneda Manor_

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Southampton dockyard, April 17, 1889, 10:46 am_

"First-class, Suite A-47," Alexandra instructs the pair of footmen carrying off our luggage. Rosy admires the huge boat, her real fingers gripping the fake ones on her left prosthetic arm. I cling onto Casimir's arm, goggling at the awe-inspiring ship, while he just looks on and pretends to be uninterested.

The ship lets out a great big honk. Rosy giggles and claps her hands delightedly, dancing towards the gangplank, and Casimir and I both startle. Alexandra chuckles at us and shoos us over to the gangplank after our sister.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Rosy giggles, skipping backwards up the bridge. "Our first time on a boat! I hope it'll be a nice birthday."

"I'm sure it will," Casimir remarks distantly as we step onto the thick wooden deck and move off to the side. Rosy jumps over to lean over the railing and wave to random cheering onlookers back on land. The noise is deafening, so much so that I have to lean in closely to speak to Casimir.

"What time is that meeting?" I ask into his ear.

"Not sure," he responds. "I just hope we can find the imposter quickly." With that, he gestures for Alexandra, who appears over his shoulder. He continues, "Alexandra, go find members of the Aurora Society and chat them up. See what you can find out."

"Yes, _maestro_ ," she murmurs, and disappears.

Casimir tips his hat over his eyes to block out the sun and leans over the railing with a sigh. Somewhere nearby, Rosy is talking to a stranger, a young boy about her age. I lean my back against the railing and cross my arms.

"This would almost be peaceful," I remark, leaning back further and grinning at Casimir. He makes a dissatisfied sound on his tongue.

"I never liked sailing."

"You've never _been_ sailing," I tease, chuckling at him.

"I still don't like it, Caci," he mutters, huffing annoyedly. "It's just a floating house on water. I don't see the appeal."

"We're getting paid to be here," I remind him, "Any price we want, remember?"

"Yes, a job on our thirteenth birthday, how wonderful." He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and fiddles with his shirt sleeves. "They say thirteen is an unlucky number. Maybe something interesting will happen."

"Don't wish for anything too exciting. Rosy is here, you know."

"I know," he sighs. After a pause, he locks eyes with me, chuckles, and affectionately tips my own headpiece over my eyes, disturbing my ebony curls and getting lace in my eyes. I huff at him and readjust it.

While I'm preoccupied, Casimir looks over my shoulder and leans closer to me. "Don't look now, Caci. Guess who's here."

"Satan himself?" I joke.

"Even better. Ciel Phantomhive."

"Oh, _wonderful_ ," I laugh, following his emerald gaze with my own. "If he's here, then this is sure to be interesting."

"That it is, _la mia amata sorella_." He grabs my hand and stalks off towards where Ciel is speaking with a family of blonds, one of whom looks somehow familiar. We reach the group, a rather loud bunch, and Casimir, smiling, inserts himself into the conversation.

"Beg your pardon, please?"

"Oh? And who might you be?" The older man asks. I watch from the corner of my eye as Ciel's face morphs into brief shock.

"Earl Casimir Belynneda and my sister, Lady Acacia. Pleasure to meet you, sir. We're friends of Ciel's."

"Acquaintances," Ciel corrects under his breath.

"Temporary partners," I suggest. Ciel sighs. Casimir grins.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if we could speak to you for a moment, Ciel? It's very urgent," Casimir continues with his most charming smile.

"I suppose," Ciel agrees after a heartbeat of a pause. "Excuse me, please."

"Ciel," Casimir drones as soon as we're out of earshot. "What possibly brings you around such entertaining enjoyments? As I remember, you're a workaholic who doesn't care much for fun."

"I'm working a case, if you must know," he states defensively. "And why might you be here, Lord Belynneda?"

"Looking for a man who broke in the Karnstein hospital a few days ago. We're sent to kill him. You know anyone like that?" I respond cheerily.

"Hold on." Ciel's brows furrow together and a look of wor tightens his lips. He murmurs to himself, "Rian Stoker knows we're here?"

"That was you?" Casimir exclaims. "Rian Stoker hired us; he wants the infiltrator dead!"

"More to worry about," I mutter to myself, shaking my head dejectedly.

Casimir was right. Sailing has no appeal. This is awful.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _The Campania First-Class lounge, April 19, 1889, 8:04 pm_

Rosanne has taken to singing in an overly loud, unnecessary voice as the three of us eat cake together. Still, there is a wide smile plastered on her face, so we haven't told her to stop. Alexandra is giggling into her hand at each annoyed look Casimir sends her way.

"Oh, hello! You're Ciel's friends, aren't you?" A high pitched voice interrupts Rosanne's singing. My eyes dart up to see the familiar blonde girl Ciel was chatting with two days ago.

"Yes, and who are you?" Casimir asks.

"Elizabeth Midford, but I go by Lizzie," she introduces. "You're dressed alike; that's so adorable!" The girl grins. "You should come sit with me and Ciel if you'd like!"

"Sorry but we're celebrating their birthday today," Rosy interjects, pursing her lips.

"Actually, Rosy," I contradict, setting down my fork on my plate, "don't you want to say hello to Earl Phantomhive?" Rosy opens her mouth, but Casimir answers for her.

"Me, too!" Cas grabs my hand urgently and casts me a loaded glance. Knowing him so well, I can practically hear what he's saying. I nod at him and, flashing Alexandra a brief order to watch Rosanne, we slither into the crowd.

We're tailing Ciel. Of course, we know how to get into the meeting. We must take an empty glass from a tray and say some kind of secret code words. Casimir stops a young server, takes an empty glass from his tray, and we continue on our way. In the hall, Cas and I both take the necklaces that we wear under our clothing and place them carefully over our chests.

This is not even the fun part, and my heart already beats my ribs relentlessly. This is only the hunt. The kill is yet to happen. Of course, we don't actually plan to kill Ciel's butler, or even try to, but we have to kill someone. So, we've instructed Alexandra to sneak away and disguise herself as Sebastian just well enough to be passable in the dark cargo hold. Then, we'll solve Ciel's mission for him and capture Stoker.

We reach the door, wait a count of twenty for Ciel and Sebastian to disappear inside, and then scurry excitedly to the guard.

"Thirty pounds," Casimir mutters to me when the server offers us the mandatory beverage, "that's so stupid!"

"Calm down," I reassure, dropping some spare pounds into his hands and glancing at him as he counts them. Cas grimaces and hands the money away, holding out his glass. The server tips some water in.

"The eternal flame in-" he begins, but cuts himself off. "Oh, you're the Cobra and Viper? Small, aren't you?"

"Yes, but with every means and reason to kill you with no effort," I smile cheerily, tilting my head in an innocent gesture. The server blanches and bows us inside. Cas snorts at him and I take my brother's arm.

The meeting is no different from any high-class gathering. Gentlemen mill about, raising voices in booming laughs and deep chatter. Ladies titter behind fans and cling to their escorts. Casimir and I meld into the feel of the crowd, not only as assassins, but as lying nobles as well. I produce a lace fan from a pocketbook hanging over my shoulder, snap it open, and flutter it about in the manner of the other ladies here all while wondering where in the world Casimir got the unfamiliar walking cane tucked into his elbow.

"Where did you get that?" I mutter to him behind my fan.

"A man over there didn't seem to be taking very good care of it," he shrugs. I look over my shoulder and my eyes fall on an older gentleman scanning the area around him. I huff at Casimir but smile in delight.

"Caci," Casimir nudges me in the side and nods into the crowd near the back of the room. "It's Ciel. Let's go say hi."

I nod and swivel my steps their direction, but we are interrupted by a larger man blocking our path. He regards Casimir with sunken dull blue eyes under a jutting forehead. He must be a bodyguard.

"Can we help you?" I ask politely before Casimir and reprimand him.

"You're the Cobra and Viper," he states in the thick accent of a common London street-dweller. Casimir nods. The bodyguard gestures for us to follow him. Casimir raises an eyebrow at me but leads us after him anyway.

The beast of a bodyguard opens a door set into the side of the wall near the back and gestures us inside. There is a rich, wine colored armchair occupied by a young man in a pristine white doctor's coat. I swallow hard; it reminds me slightly of the madhouse uniforms.

"Doctor Stoker," Casimir speaks up, guessing who this man is. "I thought we discussed everything of importance in our letters. Why did you wish to see us?"

"I didn't," Stoker replies, standing and lacing his fingers behind his back. "I only wanted to make sure you didn't see the performance. It's starting now, so stay here. I'll be back in a moment."

Then, the doctor exits the room.

Casimir and I stand in stunned silence for a while. That was certainly strange. Why would he invite us if he had no intention of letting us see what the Aurora Society was hiding? Still stunned, my twin and I gain enough sense to press our ears to the door and listen.

The door is thick wood. I can hear only muffled shouting, a single voice announcing something that must be interesting to his audience. It goes very quiet for a moment. Until the screaming starts.

Cas and I meet each other's wide eyed gazes. One hand still pressed to the thick wood, he draws his knives. I palm both of mine in my left hand. The screaming continues. I have heard this brand before. It is not the scream of torture, it is the scream of icy terror. These people know someone is going to die, and they are screaming because it could be them.

Casimir reaches down on the handle and bashes the door open with his shoulder. He goes tumbling through the doorway. I crash behind him, inches behind his steps, and we both survey the scene as we run.

There is a young woman. She has a blindfold over her eyes and cutlery sticking from her body like she's a pincushion. Her broken jaw is smeared with blood so dark it is almost black.

Casimir darts to her, slinks behind her, and taps her cockily on the shoulder. "Excuse me, you seem to be causing a ruckus," he laughs. She whips her ruined face around, straw blond hair clumped with blood, and Casimir's knife stuck in her eye.

The girl raises her bony fingers and scrapes her nails along my brother's cheek, deeply. He hisses through his teeth and clasps his hand to the wound. Blood already leaks through his fingers. I step in, and with an upward slash, drop two of her thin fingers to the floor. She hisses and her face is suddenly inches from mine, her unhinged jaw massive. Her breath smells like death, decay. I lurch backwards and stumble over the ribbons trailing my dress. The sash tied around my waist comes undone and I trip over it and land hard on my shoulder.

A weight crashes on top of me. The sickly stench, that unmistakable smell of old blood and rotting flesh, of putrid waste and decaying flowers, envelops me. It reminds me of the morgue door underneath the madhouse. They kept people in there, in with that stench and the bodies. They kept _me_ there, in isolation, in darkness, with the stench of death and the cold, staring eyes and the quiet _drip, drip, drip_ of wastewater from chamber pots. I can still smell it, a year later.

The smell of fresh blood erupts alongside a jet of pain gushing from my upper right arm. It's her. Her green teeth stuck into my muscle and her sick purple tongue lapping at my nerves. I let out a shrill screech and bash the _monster_ on its head, only succeeding in driving its teeth deeper. I can feel its dry, bloated lips sucking on my inflamed skin. It is not only attacking. It's feeding.

" _Casimir!_ " I screech, yanking my arm back and forth, forcing those decayed green teeth away, tearing my skin more. My free hand claws at its face viciously, shreds of yellow, rotting skin peeling off under my fingers. It does not bleed. My scrabbling hand yanks off her blindfold and I screech again.

Her eyes. _Her eyes_. Her eyes are void of anything. She is not dead, nor alive. Her eyes. Curious. She is crying. She is sad. Pain.

My hand stops. The girl stops. She meets my eyes. Her gaze is green, the pure, wide emerald of my own. Through her haze, her hunger, she is pained. Curious. Yet, she understands me. I understand her. For we are both already soulless.

Her head is yanked away and crushed easily under a white-gloved palm. That same glove, covered in splotches of reddish-brown and smears of gray, is offered to me. I take it and am hoisted to my feet. Sebastian meets my eyes.

"My, that is an unfortunate wound, Miss Belynneda," he coos in his cynical, velvety voice. I wince, not noticing any pain.

"It doesn't hurt," I murmur, my eyes locking on the girl's destroyed body. "Shock. Um, Sebastian, why did you kill her?"

"She was already dead. I did not kill her, I only ended her movement."

"She was hungry," I mutter sadly, "hungry and curious and in pain. She wanted to be alive."

"We can talk later," Ciel snaps. I wrench my gaze from the girl and settle it coldly on Ciel. He snaps a clip into a gun. Casimir gathers himself off the floor and presses my knives into my left hand.

"I'm going after Stoker," Ciel announces. "Sebastian, stay here and deal with him."

I notice for the first time a young man in the room. His hair is orange, his eyes lime, his slender build clad in a smart suit. He leans on a metal thing that looks a little bit like a low chair that hums and rumbles loudly.

Casimir, his face impassive and marred, takes my sash off the ground and slams open the door. He gently holds my injured arm and wraps a messy bandage that at least does its job. When he finishes and ties off the end with a bow, he finally meets my eyes. His face is cloudy.

"Acacia," he pauses, takes a breath, and composes himself, "this is where it gets interesting. Can you fight?"

"Yeah," I respond, stiffly testing my arm. As long as I don't stretch my torn bicep muscles, the wound stays in a state of cold, tingling numbness.

"Great." Cas takes my uninjured hand and we start off at a run down a set of stairs. Cas talks to me through each step. "We need to go down to the cargo hold. No doubt Alexandra is there."

"Cas," I pant as we turn a corner and continue downwards, steps echoing loudly in the empty stairwell, "D'ya think there are more of them?"

"No. Why would there be?"

"Just a thought. I'm worried about Rosy." We skid to a stop at the thick metal door. Casimir turns the handle down and pushes it open with all his might. As soon as the gap is big enough for us to slip through, we slink in and Casimir leans on the door until it bangs shut.

The room is dark, so very dark. I instinctively reach out for my brother and find his hand. He laces our fingers together and taps on my hand once. We fall into step.

I use my locating trick, clicking my tongue off the roof of my mouth. Everything is cold. We walk slowly, I making the occasional clicking sound and hearing nothing but cold metal and wood. Suddenly, there is a spot of bright red heat leaning against a cold metal wall.

"Doctor Stoker?" I call out, "Is that you?"

"Lady Belynneda?" A response comes. I recognize Ciel's voice. A dim light penetrates the darkness, and his face is illuminated. Next to me, Casimir sighs.

"Ciel!" A shrill voice cries, and the girl who introduced herself as Lizzy flings herself at him.

"Who are you?" Casimir asks at the same time I notice a silver-haired young man in a smart suit. Something is off about his skin, the way the light falls off it.

"She uses echolocation, says Oscar," the young man murmurs. "She is one of us, says Emily." The young man's sleeves move, and a snake peeks out from under his cuff.

"That's Snake, my footman," Ciel introduces. Casimir kneels down.

"Hi, Snake, nice to meet you. You can talk to the snakes?" The young man, Snake, nods. Casimir giggles.

"Lizzy, I told you to stay put. It's too dangerous," Ciel is scolding the girl. Her green eyes widen and glisten in the lantern light.

"Oh, let her stay, Ciel," I interject. "Stoker can't really be that dangerous, can he? I mean, he's only a doctor."

"Caci…!" Casimir drawls, his voice high in fear. He tugs on the sleeve of my dress. "Caci, that's not what's so dangerous."


	14. Corpses

**Much thanks to Ancient Glory, who is still reading this for some strange, unknown reason.**

 **Guys, my midterms start tomorrow so I'm kind of too busy waiting for a miracle or a portal to another world to write. Of course, I'll still probably do things, but I just don't know how often I'll update.**

 **ALSO it's Ciel's birthday today, so happy birthday, Ciel! We all wish you few nightmares of your dead parents and how they were sewn together! :D**

 **Enjoy.**

" _Life is neither good or [SIC] evil, but only a place for good and evil."_

 _-Marcus Aurelius_

 **_-X*X-_**

I scramble backwards, shoving the handle of one of my knives between my teeth and brandishing the other one. Ciel raises his gun and lets off a couple shots. The bullets ping off metal coffins and make squelching sounds as they sink into rotted flesh.

"I tul' oo so!" I snap at Casimir through the silver alloy in my mouth. It's a miracle he can understand me through my slurred speech and the moans of the undead in the cargo hold.

"Very mature!" He shouts back, angrily slashing through a creature's brittle bone and snapping its arm off and to the floor. I stab one through the eye and yank my knife out, but it only stumbles forward and continues its mindless trek.

"Eh?" I shriek shrilly, dancing out of the way of wriggling fingers. "Zey von' die!"

"You have to smash their heads!" Ciel inputs, letting off more furious shots into the mob of corpses ambling our way.

Huffing a dark curl away from my eyes, I lurch forward and duck under a wrinkled, outstretched arm, spinning into place just in front of it. Before I can think, I slam my fist into its mess of diseased flesh. My wounded arm sings with pain.

"On top of the crates!" Ciel orders. I duck out of the way and dance back into the circle of light. Ciel lets off three more shots from his gun before the tiny mechanism clicks silently. He mutters to himself.

"Go on, then!" Casimir sings, delighted. He flashes a demented grin over his shoulder.

"Smile!" Snake calls, reaching a hand down. Ciel grabs it and his footman hoists him up on top of a pile of the largest crates I've ever seen. I reach a desperate hand up, opting to run instead of risk fighting with my injured arm. The footman clasps my hand and pulls me up with as little effort as he did Ciel. I roll onto the wood and lean over the edge of the crate.

Down below, Casimir dances. His knives are a blur and sickly black blood pools at his feet. This is what we mean when we claim our utter insanity. Casimir loves the feel of bones breaking and flesh tearing under his knives. I breathe deeply; the smell is what drugs me.

"He's getting tired," I say when Cas loses his flow and gets knocked twice by dirty, pale fingernails. A new gash opens on his jawbone and one across the bridge of his nose. I turn to the footman and demand, "Help him up!"

Snake does, and my brother tumbles next to me. He is slathered in dark, sickly black blood. A thin trickle of crimson cuts through the grime down his nose and off his chin. He undoes his bow tie and uses it to scrub his face off enough so I can see a semblance of his skin.

The crates under us lurch violently. Lizzy yelps and is thrown into Ciel's chest. The snakes undulating around Snake's torso start up a creepy hissing mantra. I slide straight into Casimir, who wraps his arms around me protectively.

"So high!" I exclaim, suddenly remembering how high up we are.

"Stay calm," Casimir murmurs to me in Italian. Ciel is yelling something unintelligible. My stomach lurches with each vicious pound into the wooden crates. I can hear the undead moaning below us. I think it must be meaningless sounds, but there are words.

I bury my face into Casimir's shoulder. Something is happening. Squishes. Pain. The crates stop rocking. With every crunch, every squelch, I wince. I don't know why, but it hurts. It hurts. Pain. Curious. It hurts.

Silence. Footsteps. I crawl back to sanity. The chains that bind me to the darkness ( _madhouse_ ) snap and break. I can hear voices again. I can see the heat. I click my tongue. Two heat signatures against the cold.

"Alexandra!" Casimir sighs at the same time Ciel calls his own butler's name.

I lift my head up and see my maid's figure. The writhing mass of corpses is still, spread out like a blanket on the floor. Alexandra steps daintily over the bodies, raising her hands up to help us down. I dangle my feet over the edge and she swings me down.

"Alexandra," I snap as she assists Casimir. "Your pinafore."

"Does something displease you, mistress?" She asks, voice layered with condescension.

"Your pinafore," I repeat as the last of our small group splashes into the thick pool of deceased blood, "Take it off and leave it here. That's an order."

Without question, she unties the ribbon from around her waist and behind her neck and drops it into the pool of blood. Her lavender dress is spattered with blood at the hem and her shoes shine black. The discarded garment is already ruined. I glare at it. I don't want my maid smelling so strongly of soullessness.

"You could have been less messy," Ciel reprimands, inspecting the bottom of his shoes. Casimir snickers at him.

"I apologize, my lord, but this was the quickest way to eliminate the threat," Sebastian responds.

"Well, we're going to go find Stoker," Casimir announces, wrapping his knives in their sheath and tucking them into his suit jacket for easy access. Casimir locks my good hand in his and marches me off with a quick, "See you then, Ciel!"

"My lord..?" Alexandra calls hesitantly. "Do you truly believe the mistress should be about? That wound looks rather painful."

At the mention of pain, the adrenaline of the fight finally wears off, ebbing like the ocean's tide, and pain takes its place. It burns like insanity. I yelp and stumble backwards into Alexandra.

"Caci-!"

"Do not worry yourself, my lord. I will escort you to your cabin, _si_ , _Padroncina_?" Alexandra offers.

"Fine. Fix me as best you can and change my clothes. Then come back down here and finish what we started."

"Yes, _miei amore_."

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Campania, First-class Suite A-47, April 19, 1889, 9:07 pm_

I sit alone on the borrowed silk sheets, swinging my legs absently. My upper arm is wrapped thickly with cloth and still stings from where Alexandra took it upon herself to sew my skin shut. She opted to clothe me in a slender gown with a skirt I cannot trip over and no petticoats. My knives have been purged of blood.

I can still smell it. The rot, the sickness, the death and decay. I inspect my fingernails. They are caked with that dead, ebony blood. The smell clashes with the richness of the suite; the silkiness of the sheets, the softness of the bed, even the paint on the walls and the carvings in the dark wood.

I am bored.

Sighing, I sit up and transfer my weight on to the floor. I open the cabin door and make my way into the hall, my boots light on the flags. I turn the corner from the hallway and push open the door to the first-class deck, pushing my dress sleeve over to cover my bandages.

Before I can step out into the night, the ground lurches. I tumble into the wall as the boat underneath me shudders. When it finally rests still, I can hear murmuring, screaming, from the still-open doorway from the passengers on the deck. I peek my head out.

Dead. Corpses roam the deck. Blood, living, crimson blood, splashes down the railings and into the sea water. Cracks run down the deck underneath my feet. The boat is breaking. Bones are breaking. Dead. People are dying.

Casimir. Rosy.

My brother can care for himself, but Rosy! She is handicapped, innocent, she cannot fight. I'm sure Casimir is safe, probably still in the cargo hold, but where is Rosy?

I slip my knives from their sheath and, in my haste, discard the silk wrappings on the bloodied deck. I take off, blood like a waterfall down the now slanted deck. It occurs to me that maybe we crashed into something. Ran aground.

I burst into the last place I saw her, the lounge. It is empty of living people, but a handful of living corpses crowd around something in the corner. I almost close my eyes and leave, but I don't. Something isn't right. They are moaning, not feeding.

I stand on my toes to get a better look. There's a table, shoved over on its side, acting as a barrier between the undead and whatever they're pining for. I make a quick decision, tuck my knives into my boot, and search for something sturdy. My eyes fall on a thick, splintered table leg, broken in the frenzied scramble for safety. I lift it with both of my arms, rest it on my shoulder, and pick my way over the debris.

As I get closer, I can hear whimpers. I recognize the voice as Rosy's. I almost sigh in relief. Luck led me to her.

When I reach the first corpse, I swing the table leg hard into the decayed head. It cracks like a walnut. I grin to myself as the rest of the corpses stop their squirming and face me. I count seven.

They go down, one after the other, steadily, like rainfall. Eight headless corpses, nothing more than disgusting mush over their shoulders, sprawl at my feet. I drop the heavy table leg, my arms trembling. I can feel my wound bleeding through my bandages. The seams on my stitches popped.

"Rosy, are you okay?" I ask as my sister pokes her head over the round edge of the table.

"Y- Yes," she rasps, wiggling over the edge and dropping to her feet in a pool of black blood and broken bone. Her face is streaked with tears and her braid has come undone, her long sheet of straight black hair hanging limply down her back. Her whole body trembles.

"Is… Is Casimir…?" She stammers, gulping down air.

"I'll find him, don't worry. I think he's in the cargo hold."

"Okay." Rosanne's face steels in determination. "Let's go find him then." She marches sternly past me, the skirt of her light pink dress splattered with black blood.

"Rosy, no!" I call, clasping her thin shoulder. "You're getting on a lifeboat."

Her huge sapphire eyes well up with tears and she sniffles. "But… Acacia, what about you and Casimir?"

"We'll be right behind you. I promise. I'll follow you as soon as I find Casimir and Alexandra," I smile reassuringly.

"B-But," Rosy's lip trembles and her tears spill over. "What if I don't see you again? I don't want to go back home alone."

"Hey," I reassure, smiling again, and lifting my necklace off my neck. The serpent on the chain spins slowly and shines in the starlight. "You know how much I love this, right? Well, I'll give it to you, so when I get back, you can give it back to me. Okay?"

Rosy nods, and I slip the chain over her head.

"Go to the lifeboats. When you get back to land, find the Yard. It's their job to help. Get home. I'll see you there."

With that, I turn on my toes and sprint off the way I went to the cargo hold.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Campania portside cargo hold, April 19, 1889, 9:25 pm_

I fist my hands and place them on my hips. This huge iron door is too heavy for me. There's a valve in the center for opening, but I can hardly reach high enough to turn it a full time.

I grab a luggage trunk from the huge, organized piles heaped against the walls, and kick it methodically until it's under the valve. Then, I climb on it and can easily place my hands on the top.

The valve sticks at first and shrieks as I turn it, but I can feel it unsticking under my hands.

Suddenly, the huge iron door slams open, and a blast of freezing water hits me full on, throwing me to the metal.

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Bucket after bucket of water is dumped over my head. Tiny bits of ice slide down my body and plunk to the grated floor. Another bucket is emptied. I shiver, the leather and metal cuffs around my wrists clanking together. It smells of metal. My mouth is coated in an acrid taste. The window is open and snow blows in, piling around my feet. Another bucket. Another gust of winter wind._

 _They try to freeze the insanity away. The fire only gets hotter and hotter until I am so numb I can feel nothing at all. Not the ice sliding down my arms or the water dripping from my nose. Nothing._

 **_-X*X-_**

 _Campania portside cargo hold, April 19, 1889, 9:25 pm_

I blink in the darkness and shoot to my feet. Water pools around my waist, numbing my legs and weighing my skirt down. It is rising quickly, spilling in from the boiler room. It engulfs my shoulders, climbs up my neck. I take a huge breath.

Coldness. Numbness. Just like the ice water in the madhouse. I pull my knives from my boots and tap them together. The sound is muffled, but I can hear deep blue, frigid, ice, cold. A length of heat in the darkness, four figures close together. I kick my legs and move despairingly slowly.

My lungs burn. The heat is closer. I tap my knives again, reach up, my fingertips break the surface. Something whizzes past me in the water, leaving a trail of bubbles as it sinks. I reach up again, fighting the weight of my waterlogged skirts.

A hand grasps mine, and I am tugged out of the water and onto a metal surface. Before I open my eyes, I click my tongue and see heat.

Casimir kneels above me. His face cracks into a grin as he meets my eyes.

"There are more," I slur, panting and rubbing my numbed skin. Casimir pulls me into him. He's wet, but much warmer.

"We know," Ciel snaps.

"Take off your clothes, Caci," Casimir demands, helping me to my feet.

"Not in front of so many people," I joke.

"Do you want hypothermia?" Ciel interjects coldly. I huff at him and snap, "Yes," before turning back to Casimir.

"Fine. Let's go," Ciel agrees without pushing it. Casimir practically lifts me up and Ciel leads our way out of the boiler room.

 **Yeah… Please review! I'm loving it! (ba da da da da!)**

 **My account is in no way related to McDonalds. I just thought I should add that in there for comic relief. Anyway, review.**


	15. Ending

**I HAVE THE ENDING AFTER FOUR MONTHS OF HIATUS! I MEANT TO POST MORE TO THIS BUT I GOT SIDETRACked and lost pretty much everything I had so I gave up and wrote out this ending and I'm finally posting it.**

 **In case it's not obvious, this is set five years after the events in the last chapter. The twins are seventeen and Rosy is dead, Alexandra broke off their contract and left.**

 **So, enjoy, I guess!**

There is nothing, in every sense of the word. No feeling; no comfort; no Casimir.

It has been five years since I was here. Five years for the fires to grow and cool. Five years for the burns and chafes and memories to scar and fade. I am back, and new marks, blood red, have already grown over the scars in uneven lines.

At seventeen, I have grown taller, and my brother taller than I. I am still small and skinny with steady hands and wild jet curls, longer now, and the same innocent emerald eyes.

I remember- no, last time- no, I remember. Yes, I do. I remember. It could not have been a dream, or a figment of my inflamed imagination.

I remember a little girl. She has been dead for two years, and I have almost forgotten the unique light in her ocean eyes. I was fifteen, and she was twelve. Her face blossomed with the peaks and valleys of I healed burns, her arm no more than a stump. I remember her throat unzipping like a purse beneath my blade and her accusatory words, "You killed them. You killed them all."

I remember a woman. She still visits me in my dreams, opening the windows to sit on the creaky bed between me and my brother, to pull us close and whisper stories in languages we can't understand and some we can. I remember her parting words spoken in a language she doesn't have the heart to pervert; "I will keep you alive, but only because your soul is not the treasure I was promised."

I remember a boy. He had grown until he stands tall and proud. His heart has not matured, and he is pure despite the flames of Hell licking his boots wherever he walks. We shared- share- the same steady hands and crazed fever and innocent eyes and wild curls. And it takes so long to remember the sounds and smells and his name!

Rosanne. Alexandra. Casimir.

"Casimir, do you remember?" I whisper, my voice muffled by a starch pillow.

"Acacia," he answers, muffled, unmoving. Frozen. "Are you-" he coughs, his body jolting against my side.

"Pneumonia," I supply, and his head twitches as if nodding.

"Cold, you're right." His voice rasps painfully, as if cockroaches have nested in his lungs.

"I know." My voice is weak, tired, but I don't have pneumonia. In fact, I am feverishly hot and he is cold where we are pressed together. "Fever," I finally say.

"Where are we, Caci?" He whimpers, licking ice cold, trembling lips and lifting his head heavily to face me. I can hardly meet his eyes.

"You know," I reprimand, smiling playfully.

"I do." He returns my smile, watery and weak.

"You're cruel," I laugh, pushing at his leg with my own.

"No." He coughs into the pillow. "I'm not cruel. That's not right. Try again, Acacia."

"You're," I search for the word. I used to know it. I used to use it. "Dying," I finally drag out.

"Don't cry." His breath catches and his hand cups the side of my face not pressed against the pillow. He drags icy fingers over my burning forehead. "Everyone dies, Caci. Mother, Father, Rosy, Alexandra, even us."

"Not Alexandra," I correct with a sad smile.

"No," he agrees fondly, fingers carding back through my tangled curls. His smile is sweet. Suddenly, he taps a finger once against the dead, coal black mark between my collarbones.

"Do you remember?" He finally asks me in Italian.

"Croissants," I lick my lips. "And chocolate."

"Strawberries and cream," he adds.

"Card games." I lace our fingers together.

"Murder."

"Murder," I agree with a smile.

"Acacia." He squeezes my hand.

"Casimir."

"I want her back," he blurts. "I want Alexandra to help. I want to live." I press his hand to my lips comfortingly.

"Don't ask me to call her," I beg. "She spared us once, she won't do it again." I know I won't be able to say no to my twin. My dying twin. His hands are cold.

"You contracted her once for me."

Alexandra's mark is black now, like a badly healed brand, where it was once a deep, strawberry vermillion. Occasionally, it pulsates and stings, and I can tell Alexandra is still angry, sending me her rage through our Faustian contract from whatever circle of Hell she's brooding in.

"I need more time. Please, Acacia."

"We've already gotten too long, Cas. She was meant to kill us when we were sixteen."

"I love you." He kisses my forehead with lips colder than death.

I reach out through our bond, tugging as hard as I can. Whatever link between us slackens and Alexandra steps out of the shadows in the madhouse cell, grimacing at me. Her edges are fuzzy and her face bland, as if she'd forgotten what she looked like.

"I admit, you are brave to summon a demon whose trust you have wronged." Her Italian accent is warped with an underlying hissing and the familiar sound of fear; screams and wails and the thick bubbling of blood. It doesn't seem to quite come from her either.

"Cas is dying. You have to help him."

"I do not," she snarls. The furious screaming intensifies between my ears, and a headache forms behind my nose.

"Contract him," I beg.

"He should have died," she deadpans. The screaming is gone but the headache persists. "You offend me, piccolo ragazza."

"You know my name," I scoff, sitting up on the bed and sliding out of Casimir's hold.

"I do not," she smirks, edges popping into place and voice clearing. She kneels in front of me, peering up curiously. I can see fangs between her stretched lips. "Perhaps you should remind me."

"You know I don't know. Stop playing. What do I have to do?"

"I am hungry."

"I can bring you as much as you want, whoever you want," I promise. "I still have my knives and my hands never tremble."

"They do," she scoffs. "You are weak."

"How so?"

"Your body is on fire. You beg of those whom you used to command without a second thought. Can you promise your blade would not hesitate, looking into the eyes of an innocent man?" When I am silent, she continues, "Your pride has withered. The strength has melted from your bones. The Acacia Belynneda I contracted five years ago would slit your throat. I do not know you, little girl."

"My only pride is my twin," I lean forward on my knees, until our noses are nearly touching. "It could be like it was. You still love us."

"I do not know you." She blinks, and her smile widens, unnatural on her face. "I knew once a pair of assassins. They did not wipe blood off their hands. They looked into the eyes of a weak man and decided if he would live or die. They trailed misery. She was the mistress of chaos and he of destruction. I knew the children who ruled a demoness without fear."

I have never been scared of Alexandra. Not when she appears to me in the madhouse, not when she took souls in front of me. Not even when she held me by my neck and snarled in my face her disapproval and anger. But here, as she kneels on the madhouse floor, I am.

Behind me, Casimir gasps hollowly. Dirty, icy fingers ding into my wrist. I lace our hands together. I try to turn around, to comfort him, but Alexandra's black nails catch my chin and hold me tight, pinning me with her magenta irises.

"Where I'd your pride now, Padroncina?" She growls.

"Dead. Are you satisfied?"

She sighs and retracts her hand. I grip Casimir's behind me; cold, soft, unresponsive. Alexandra looks over my shoulder. "Close your eyes," she says. "Close your eyes and look."

"No."

"Look."

The vice nails are back around my head and yanking me around, spinning until my neck snaps and pain flashes through my body and I jolt.

"Can't sleep?" Casimir murmurs. "Nightmares?" His hand tightens around my back and I breath in his clean scent, strawberries and chocolate.

"She did it," I murmur into his skin.

"Who did what?"

"Alexandra," I supply, sitting up. Cas follows me.

"Alexandra? Who?"

"You don't remember?" I ask.

"What?" He presses a soft palm against my forehead. "You feel a bit hot, Caci. Stay here, I'll go get Myles to bring you some tea."

"Cas, wait!" He stops in the middle of climbing to his feet. "Show me your hands."

"My hands?" But he turns around and holds his hands out. Steady and unblemished. I unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. Not a single mark, no burns or chafes. Shakily, I check my own.

Nothing.

"Caci, are you feeling well?"

"Yes." I shake my head to clear the confusion. "You really don't remember? The fire, the madhouse, Rosy's death, the assassins, nothing?"

"Remember what? I don't understand, Acacia."

"What?"

"You were telling me about something?"

"Was I?" I yawn and rub the sleep out of my eyes. "About what, Cas?"

"About Rosy dying and someone named Alexandra and the madhouse, I think?"

I shrug. "Where'd you get that idea, Cas? Maybe I should send you to the madhouse, hm?" Flipping the covers off my lap, I stand and stretch.

"I'd prefer if you didn't, actually."

"I'm hungry," I comment.

"You're going to have to get to the food before you can eat it!" He laughs, and takes off down the hall.

"You're so childish!" I call after him, and give chase.


End file.
